#… and then says “if it’s really so safe and so good then go ahead. Make me happy” and Curtain can’t do it

[machveil]

Trying not to think about Simon 'Always Doing Acts of Service and Caring for Others Silently' Ghost Riley forgetting to care for himself as much, and how it would probably touch a part of his heart he thought wasn't there anymore if someone did the same for him. Something simple, like just a new jacket after his old one got wrecked from wear and tear, that's thick and durable but soft and comfortable, a nice weight on his shoulders but doesn't make him sweat, resting over his chair. Or after a long day of work where he's dragging himself along, finding a meal already made for him sitting in the fridge, something actually cooked and seasoned the way he likes so he doesn't have to think about cooking or go to bed on an empty stomach. Idk, this has been rattling around in my brain all day and I needed to get it out, sorry if this is weird! Also really like your art and writing, congrats on the 1k, you deserve it and so much more!

anon I’m smooching your big, beautiful brain (I wrote this in one sitting, hope it’s not terrible lol)

Simon Riley is a man of action - Ghost, the most literal manifestation of serving. Ghost follows and gives orders to assure his team, his friends, make it home safe at the end of a deployment. as a Lieutenant, Simon wouldn’t say it out loud, but he cares so deeply for his team. Task Force 141 is a second home to him, more so the people, and thus makes it his job to protect them

but Simon Riley is also a man of action off duty - a civilian who’s heart rests in your hands. loyal as a dog, Simon would do anything for you. a man of action, he’ll insist you relax, you shouldn’t lift a finger for something small. anything Simon can do in your stead he will. because, while his team is a second home, his true home is you

but Simon, stubborn and strong as he is, gets tired. front door clicking shut, mask already being tugged off, his muscles are tense and sore after a long day. dirty blond hair messy and eyes half lidded with exhaustion, he’s still only got one thing on his mind - to serve you and make you happy. he already planned on trudging into the kitchen to make dinner, something simple but filling. he pauses when he smells food already though

kicking his boots off, worn and dirty, he makes his way to the little kitchen around the corner. cracking a small, barely there smile at the sight in front of him. you, moving about the kitchen. the lights a little dim - he’d change the lightbulb later, and there you are, cooking a meal. one step ahead of him, and he soaks in the domestic scene. a part of him wants to step in, tell you you’ve done enough and he’ll finish everything off… but he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt this cozy, intimate moment

it’s only when you see him does he approach, hands a touch too rough and calloused - he’s sure you’ll make him moisturize later. “Smells nice, lovie.”, he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. eyes fluttering shut as he holds your hands, a small grin tugs at his lips, “S‘pose the food smells good too.”. he relishes in the laugh that leaves you, the way you squeeze his hands. he moves to press a kiss to your jaw, slightly crooked nose nudging against you as his hands wander to your hips - touch featherlight, as if handling you any rougher might shatter you

there’s a reluctance in his heart as he lets go of you, scoffing when you tell him to go sit down. “Bossy little thing.”, he mumbles, voice lighthearted as he leans back against a counter. he stays there for just a moment, one last glance at you happily cooking - cooking for him. it melts his heart knowing that you’re just a loyal as him, that you’d both run to the ends of the Earth for each other

he’s content to finally relax, leaving the kitchen to slump against a chair in the small dining room. head tilted back a little as he rolls his shoulders, his hands move to idly take his belt off - he’d change later, a hot shower after dinner always made him feel better. maybe he’d convince you to join him, better yet— maybe he’d convince himself to indulge in a hot bath instead. and when you join him at the table, sitting down next to him with a full plate for him, Simon feels butterflies in his stomach

he loves eating with you, sharing a meal and letting his guard down. gaze smitten as he listens to you recount your day, breathing steady as he hums. and when everything is done, stubborn man, he’ll take the dishes to the kitchen. as much as he’d like to wash them straight away, he settles for leaving them in the sink tonight. soon enough he’s sweeping you up in his arms - no matter how roughed up and sore he is, he always finds the strength to carry you. he’ll ignore any protest that, “Simon! I can walk—“, a gruff chuckle rumbling in his chest, “Know that, love, but I can carry you just fine.”

and from then on, Simon feels like he’s floating. in a dreamlike state, he sets you down on the cool bathroom floor, feet making contact with tile. gently thumbing at your hips, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you.”. soft spoken words contrasting his gravely voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek - lips a little chapped, but he’s never heard you complain about them

and when you help each other slowly strip, the bathroom filling with mist like steam, he feels the tension in his muscles give. he puts up a little fight, grumbled words, when you insist on sudsing him up. he’s all bark though, when he feels you rub his aching shoulders he feels like he could never muster up any bite ever agiain. comfortable and turning to putty in your hands, he’ll happily let you mould him into a soft, gentle man

he’ll lazily return the favor, rough hands lathered in your body wash. content. feeling you under his palms, warm skin dotted with beads of water and bubbles, Simon’s content. a warmth in his chest that he’s still not used to. the simple intimacy of washing away the sweat and filth from the day, it makes Simon feel like a new man - and to wash you? he’s happy you feel safe enough, that you trust him, to handle you so carefully

and at the end of the night, cleaned from the dirt of his daily life, Simon settles in bed with you. all gentle touches and soft, murmured praise - you did so good for him today. he fights the back of his mind off, you’ve taught him better than to believe those gnawing words. Simon Riley deserves this. a phrase you carved into his heart, long since settled at the forefront of his mind. and as he holds you to his chest, warm hand on the small of your back, he sighs deeply…

a man of action deserves rest

[nobodysdaydreams]

I have to comment on the subtle way TMBS uses Curtain’s father relationship with SQ to show the contrast between him and Curtain in the books.

I love the books and the tv show, and I think both sets of characters are fantastic. However, in some cases, they are different characters and Curtain is a great example (from a character writing standpoint and also literally, Nathaniel Benedict and his backstory with Nicholas are not in the books). But what really sells it for me is how Curtain treats his son in the few scenes we do see and the few things we know about their relationship. 1) Show Curtain actually adopts SQ. In the books he comes to care about him, but he would never take the step of openly considering him family, even though it would have almost guaranteed book SQ’s loyalty. This version of Curtain does adopt SQ despite his vulnerability trigger. (I won’t get too into my “Curtain/Garrison/Milligan/SQ’s dad were friends that fell apart theory” cause that’s a whole other thing but click here to start that rabbit hole). 2) Show Curtain doesn’t involve SQ in his work. Book Curtain uses SQ as an executive/messenger, puts him in the whisperer and repeatedly wipes his memory to keep him by his side. Show SQ was not an executive or messenger (in fact he has no idea what his dad does) and so far has shown no signs of being brain swept. Even in season 2, when Marlon asks if SQ can come back for the next stage and Curtain says no, we as the audience assume this implies SQ has already been given the “happiness” but what if Curtain’s refusal to bring SQ back was actually him preventing SQ from taking the artificial happiness? (They didn’t get the actor back so I guess we’ll never know).

3) Show Curtain encourages SQ’s artistic talent. I’ve seen a lot of fics where Curtain resents that SQ is artistic and wishes he were “smart”, but if you watch the show, Curtain doesn’t do that. He does art projects with his son, he has rules about him going to the forest to paint but he still lets him go, and when Garrison interrupts Curtain, he doesn’t snap at SQ to do his homework, he suggests his son sketch, an activity he knows SQ enjoys. It would be easy to have a scene of Curtain admonishing SQ for his grades or not appreciating his art, but instead the writers chose to put in scenes showing the opposite.

4) When Reynie gives Curtain a narcoleptic seizure in the season 1 finale, it’s SQ that really sets him off. At first Curtain tries to mock what Reynie says: “I don’t think I’m a bad person either who thinks that?/“ok this is embarrassing”, but once he mentions SQ, Curtain gets visibly uncomfortable like “oh he went there oh no” and goes “okay, that’s enough that’s enough”, and realizes that he is losing this fight.

5) Finally, yes, we do see that Curtain is a bad father to SQ. I’m not denying that. The man deserves to be nailed by a golf cart. But: the main times when we see Curtain being a bad parent have a pattern: they occur when SQ is in danger of discovering who Curtain really is. The first is when he asks to bring Reynie to the forest. Curtain panics, realizing Reynie might be working for Nicholas, and now he’s forming a friendship with his son. Telling SQ that Reynie is using him was cruel and SQ is clearly devastated. SQ shows an awareness that his father speaks to others that way (he sees how his father speaks to Garrison) but might not be used to his father speaking to him that way which is why he takes it so badly. Then there’s when Curtain interrogates SQ, asking if he took a friend to the forest/if Reynie is really his friend, and SQ throws back in his face the “right cause who’d be friends with me” line and openly lies to him. Book Curtain would have at least called him out, or much worse. Show Curtain doesn’t, even though he knows his son is lying. Whether it’s because he’s scared his son is turning against him or because he’s ashamed of what he said to SQ earlier (“how many friends have you had”?) or because he doesn't want his son to be more suspicious, we can only speculate. Finally, SQ confronts Curtain about the antennas after finding Reynie’s letter and refuses to tell his dad about his conversation with Reynie. At this point, Curtain doesn’t know how much his son knows or what he will do. He could brain-sweep him. He could yell and tell SQ to never disrespect him again. Instead, he handles it in kind of a weird way where he admits to being under stress and having clouded judgment (which is a very rare moment of vulnerability and emotional awareness not just from Curtain, but from any abusive parent) and asks his son to please leave, though rather forcefully. Obviously, comparing him to book Curtain puts the bar on the floor and show Curtain was still horrible and should have told the truth, but the other negative alternative ways to handle that situation (Book Curtain’s torture and brain sweeping) would have been so much worse.

One of the most interesting aspects is how Show Curtain compartmentalized his son and his work so much that they became totally separate and how little SQ knows since he’s not working as a messenger or executive. SQ, on his end, has likely seen the way his father treats others, but work stresses out a lot of people, some people are ruthless in their careers but are good parents, he probably wishes his dad was different so he could have friends (because every other kid at the institute has to be controlled by Curtain, or at least is striving to please him at all times, which prevents genuine friendships), but his dad never does those things to him or at least not to that extent. So as long as SQ never talks to his dad about work (in his mind: “because it stresses him out”), his dad will never treat him the way he treats everyone else and since SQ has never know anything else, life seems alright to him. It’s only when Reynie starts pointing out Curtain’s flaws that SQ questions him and starts to see that maybe there’s more going on.

This could also explain SQ’s season 2 absence. SQ was on the boat, he knows how his dad screwed Garrison over. His biological father used to work for his dad. And SQ will never know whether Curtain screwed his biological dad over like he did Garrison, because Curtain will never be vulnerable enough to tell him the truth. Meanwhile, Curtain also realizes that his son is now curious about his work, and keeping his double life and his son would involve going a step beyond lies/gaslighting and doing the things book Curtain did to his SQ and show Curtain so far has been unwilling to do that. So SQ now has a motivation to leave and Curtain has a motivation to let him go: SQ can’t trust his father after what Reynie told him/what he did to Garrison and the only way Curtain can make SQ stay is by forcing him or messing with his free will/memories and so far he has refused to do that, at least that we know of (granted Curtain could have also told SQ the truth and voluntarily changed his ways, but after lying for so long, SQ might have chosen to leave anyway).

Curious to hear people’s thoughts on this, I really hope they work it into the season 3 plot. (Currently pulling for the “sister kidnaps SQ at art college” theory)

Ok rant over.

[scarletcomet]

ngl besties but i am not doing so great right now. anyone else not able to function because of constant thoughts of hurting yourself and crushing depression?

[imaginedisish]

Liquid Smooth (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Started writing this last night...sooo happy you guys wanted a sex pollen fic! Hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! This one is (obviously) inspired by "Liquid Smooth," by Mitski. ENJOY!

Summary: A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Sex Pollen (so dub!con just to be safe, but not really), Multiple orgasms, Porn Without Plot...literally, implied!age gap, cursing, friends to lovers, fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,797 muahaha

“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” you murmur as Logan thumbs through the controls of the X-Jet. “Could’ve done this by myself.” 

Logan scoffs. “I’m not your babysitter, princess.” You roll your eyes at the nickname Logan has specially reserved just for you. “Charles said we’d be safer going together. He knows you can handle yourself.”

The X-Jet cruises effortlessly through the clouds. The air is still today. Calm. You and Logan are on your way to get some sort of flower that Charles claims to have extensive healing properties. It’s an easy mission. No fighting. No violence. You’re unlikely to have to use your powers at all. And yet, you’ve been paired with Logan. 

It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t—admittedly—a little into him. Or rather, pining after him. There’s just something about the sarcasm that’s always thick in his voice; the way he squeezes himself into those thin beaters. How he’s always so self-assured, so thoroughly convinced he’s right. You just can’t help it. You want him. But he isn’t yours, and he probably never will be. He’s a little older—well, a lot, considering he’s been around forever. And you know it’s safer not to make attachments—not to fall in love.

Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that. 

But having him here with you now, alone, with no buffers…it’s overwhelming. You can smell him—that mix of tobacco and pine and musk and him. He’s suddenly everywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You watch as his long fingers press different buttons, his hands gripping the steering wheel, adjusting thrusters. You stare at those fingers for far too long, your thoughts drifting to what else he can do with them. You think about him curling them deep inside you, stretching you open and—

“Everything okay?” You snap your head to face Logan, swallowing harshly as his voice pulls you back to reality. 

You force a smile, nodding. “Yep!” You say, overcompensating just a bit. “All good,” you lie. You close your eyes, trying to push thoughts of Logan out of your head, denying the heat growing between your legs.

“Good, because we’re almost there,” Logan says, the X-Jet descending carefully. You look out the window to see the trees below. There’s a lake in the distance, but that’s it. No civilization, no houses—no one. It’s empty, peaceful. 

“We’re really in the middle of nowhere, huh?” You say, glancing at Logan. 

His eyes meet yours and he smiles. Warmth blooms in your heart at the sight. “My kind of place,” he says back. The X-Jet descends further as you approach a clear spread of grass to land on just ahead. 

This is, in fact, not your kind of place. The humidity creeps up your back and settles under your skin. The forest is overgrown and impossible to navigate. You let Logan slice through the plant life with his claws, swiping back and forth whenever something gets in your way.

You haven’t been walking for long, but you’re already done. Perhaps Charles was right; a partner is not the worst idea on a mission like this. 

You can see the flower just ahead—yellow petals and a long, green, viny stem. It glows brightly even under the dense forest canopy. “Semper in tenebris lux,” Charles had said; there is always light in darkness. And he was right. The flower illuminates everything in its path. Next to it, you can see a pretty, lavender-colored flower. You stop in your tracks, letting Logan wander ahead as you crouch down to stroke the purple petals. 

“Charles didn’t say anything about not taking other flowers too, right?” You call out, watching as Logan swipes carefully at the stem of the yellow flower. He holds the dainty stem in his large hands as he walks back over to you. 

“No, he didn’t. But you should be careful. It could be poisonous or—”

You ignore Logan, picking the flower anyway. You hold it up to your nose and breathe in. It’s sweet and fragrant. You twist the stem and realize the flower is sticky with sap and pollen. Your twist shakes some of the pollen up, and it lands all over your face. 

“Shit,” you mutter, wiping it away. A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, knocking the flower out of your hand and spreading more of its pollen in the air. You can feel it in your nostrils, getting caught in your throat.

Logan furrows his brows as the pollen falls to the ground. “What the fuck did you do?”

You roll your eyes. “All I did was pick a flower!” You lift your hands, feigning innocence. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You stand up, glancing once at the yellow flower in Logan’s hands and then back at Logan. “It’s pretty.”

He parts his lips, his stare focused on you. “Yeah, it is.” There’s something else in that stare, in those words. Like maybe he isn’t only talking about the flower. You shove those thoughts down as you turn around and walk back to the jet.

Your steps are suddenly very heavy. You scratch at your shoulder. Heat blooms in your chest, your stomach, across your face. You’re irritated and overheated and itchy. Your breath grows heavier and rougher with every step. 

Logan notices immediately. He stops, grabbing your arm. You can’t control the way you lean into his touch, nor the way you’re craving more. “Hey,” he soothes, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?” There’s a hint of panic in his voice. 

You swallow harshly, nodding. Your throat feels thick, your skin tight and oppressive. “’M’fine,” you mumble. 

“Quit lying. I can tell something’s wrong,” Logan demands. You open your mouth to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t give you the chance, his grip tightening around your arm. “Your skin is on fucking fire, princess. What did you do?” He cocks his head, sniffing as he furrows his brows. His voice is darker now, slower as his eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?”

You take in a sharp breath. And that’s when you feel it, the ache between your thighs, the slick arousal soaking through your panties. The realization smacks you in the face. For a moment, you’re clear-headed, but still terrified. The pollen. That goddamn, fucking pollen. “Logan, look, I think that purple flower had some—"

He cuts you off as he yanks your arm, tugging you towards the ship. “We need to get you back to the jet, okay?”

“Oh, I am so fucked,” you cry. You know you only have a few seconds left before the effects really kick in. “L-Logan,” you stutter, almost moaning as your core burns stronger with need. “T-the pollen was everywhere. What if you got some too?” 

He ignores you, handing you the yellow flower you came here for in the first place. He sweeps one hand under your legs and keeps the other at your back as he lifts you in his arms—bridal style. You can feel his heart beating in his chest. You lean into him again, searching for relief. Wetness pools between your legs. You have never felt this needy before. Your desire hurts, burns, scorches you. You rut your hips, clenching down around nothing. 

“S-stop doing that,” Logan spits, restrained and quiet. 

“C-can’t,” you whine. “It hurts, Logan. It hurts so fucking bad. How come you aren’t like this too?”

He pulls you tighter to his chest. “I feel a little something, but that might just…”

You tilt your head up to look at him. He works his jaw, that perfect jaw. You want to bite it, to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Might just be what?” You ask, tentatively brushing your lips against the hollow of his throat. 

“Nothing, just—fuck,” he groans as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses all around his neck now. “Don’t do that, princess. You don’t want this.”

“But I do, Logan,” you beg. The ramp to the jet lowers as you and Logan approach. “N-need you.” You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “Need y-you all the time.” The confession slips easily from your lips. 

Logan’s eyes widen as he walks up the ramp and into the ship. It lifts and seals shut behind him. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart. Let’s just get you back to the mansion as quickly as possible, yeah?”

He places you down on the seat next to him, taking the flower from your hands and putting it in the jar Charles had given you. The leather cold at your back almost feels good, almost relieving—until you realize Logan is no longer holding you, touching you. You reach out towards him, grabbing his arms, pulling him back in. “Don’t go,” you plead, nails digging into his biceps. Your body is on fire. Everything is unbearably painful. “Please,” you whimper. “Need you so fucking bad, just you.” 

“Fuck,” Logan curses. “I am not taking advantage of you. I am not doing this.” He stands, freeing himself from your grasp and walking over to the pilot’s chair. “I’m getting you back to the mansion and we’re going to fix this, okay?”

But that’s not good enough for you. You stand up and walk over to Logan. Your steps are shaky, your legs trembling. Your chest heaves, your heart beating rapidly. You climb into Logan’s lap, straddling him, one leg on either side. “Logan, I can’t fucking wait,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. The pressure feels delicious.  He grabs your hips, stilling you, forcing you in place. And that’s when you feel it: his erection, hard underneath your core. “This isn’t you. You don’t really want this, don’t really want m—”

“It is me,” you protest, squirming against his hold. “Logan, I’ve wanted you for months. I-I was thinking about you t-touching me the whole way here.” You remember the way his fingers dexterously pushed all the right buttons. Need courses through you like a river, and as Logan’s hold on your hips softens, you grind down into his lap, against his erection. “S-so good,” you cry out. 

His hands are still on your hips, but now he’s guiding you, rocking you against his cock. “J-just this though, okay?” 

You hum, pressing your forehead to his, rolling your hips faster. The relief is like heaven. His arms wrap around your back, his fingers trailing up and down soothingly. Logan ruts into you, his erection straining against his jeans. You can feel yourself getting closer, but the pain, the need, it’s all still the same. 

“Logan, it’s not gonna be enough,” you whisper, his lips ghosting yours. “N-need more. Hurts so bad.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, like he’s scared to truly touch you. But he wants to consume your pain, to take it away, to feel it for you. You can see it written across his face, in the way his cock throbs against your swollen clit, how he snaps his hips into yours. 

“I know, princess,” he coos, his hands like fire on your back. Your walls contract around nothing, begging for something to hold onto, to feel something sink deep inside. “Gonna take care of you.” He kisses you again, with more vigor this time, more passion. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”

You moan into his mouth. His composure is slipping, disintegrating with every roll, every rock of your hips against his. His cock notches against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure up the base of your spine. He hikes your shirt up, the cold air hitting your overheated skin. “F-feels good,” you stammer. You’re almost there, almost hitting that peak. “S-so close.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes. “Let go for me, know you can do it.” 

You moan his name, your orgasm crashing into you like a crescendo. You know you’re soaking through your clothes, and probably onto Logan’s too. He’s still rutting against you, giving you more. He knows it’s not going to be enough, and he’s right. Need builds back up just as quickly as you found your release. 

 “Lo…” you trail off, looking up at him under lust-filled eyes. You swallow harshly, squirming in his lap helplessly. “G-gotta have you.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. He works his jaw, parting his lips. “Y-you meant it when you said you wanted me before this?” But he already knows the answer. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him about that, not even now. 

“Yes,” you whine, pulling him closer. He tugs your shirt all the way over your head and picks you up, hands firmly gripping your ass. “Still gonna want you after this, too.”

He curses under his breath as he places you down in the pilot’s chair. He’s frenzied and frantic as he hooks his thumbs into your pants and panties, yanking them down your legs and casting them to the side. 

He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands, his thumbs brushing soft circles into your inner thighs. He’s kneeling, looking up at you. Your breath catches in your throat as his face settles between your legs. 

“Could smell you before, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning over your clit. “Wanted this so fucking bad.” He doesn’t keep you waiting, licking a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Knew you’d taste perfect. Pretty fucking pussy.” 

You throw your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking harshly. He slips one hand across your back, keeping you close. His free hand climbs up your thigh, fingers exploring your folds as his tongue flits across your swollen bud. He spreads your arousal, prodding against your entrance before shoving two fingers deep inside you. “Logan!” You cry out, your walls clenching around him. He’s stretching you out, his fingers dragging inside you. He pulls out and plunges back in. He isn’t taking his time, isn’t teasing. He’s giving you what you need, pump after pump. 

You look down at him, his face buried in your cunt, consuming you, swallowing you whole like a starving man. He’s lost inside you, lapping at you with unwavering hunger and desire. His tongue swirls around your clit, his teeth grazing ever so slightly. You moan his name again, and he hums against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice rocking through your body. He’s wrecking you, but it feels so goddamn good. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he goads you along. He’s adding a third finger now, and you suck him in. You’d take anything he gives you, anything at all. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.” 

He sucks roughly, your walls clenching around him at the feeling. “Yeah?” He grunts, sucking again. “You like that? Feels good?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, stumbling over that one simple word. “S-so fucking good.” 

“I know, beautiful,” he groans, nipping at your clit in between his rough sucks. “Gonna make that hurt go away, okay?” His voice is like honey, sugar; it’s sweet, addictive. “You just gotta come for me again, can you do that?” His tongue strokes your clit, his fingers pumping faster now. 

You nod your head emphatically, pleasure surging as you near your peak. “Yeah, I-I can,” you huff. 

Logan smiles against your cunt between rough laps. “I know you can, sweetheart.” His fingers scissor inside you, deeper than before. He takes your clit between his lips again, sucking hard. 

And that’s all it takes—you’re screaming his name, coming undone, unraveling underneath him. The release is even better than the first, more full, more complete. Logan thrusts in and out a few more times before slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up into your eyes. 

For a moment, the fire inside has been quenched. You feel clear, levelheaded. But it doesn’t last long. “Fuck,” you moan, your head hitting against the headrest of the chair. The fire is back, spreading across your stomach, your chest. “Logan,” you whimper. “I n-need more.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, taking you back up into his arms. He hoists you out of the seat, his hands finding your ass, squeezing softly. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the jet, setting you down on a storage container. 

You bring your hands up to his biceps. “Need you this time, Lo,” you choke, stroking up and down his arms as the heat builds painfully between your thighs. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes searching yours. 

“Always wanted you, always sure,” you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Wanted you too,” he husks. “But I wanted it to be different, to—” You cut him off. “Just want you. It’s okay like this. I promise.” You grind against him, his erection still straining inside the denim of his jeans. 

He takes the hint, and quickly unbuckles his belt, casting the leather to the metal floor with a clunk. He’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, shoving them down his legs, and lining himself up with your entrance. You push your hips forward, giving him better access. His other hand pushes your bra above your breasts, exposing you completely to him. 

With one hand on his cock and one squeezing your tits gently, he thrusts himself into you. He’s so deep—down to the hilt—stretching you out and working you open. He groans, flicking your nipple with his thumb, his lips at the shell of your ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine, quenching that fire inside. “So warm, so tight.” He pulls out and plunges back in again, filling you up. 

“Lo,” you whine. “More.”

“I know,” he growls, his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out with every thrust. “Gonna take care of you, pretty girl.” He squeezes your tits once more before sliding his hand down your body and slipping between where the two of you connect. His fingers find your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “That feel good, beautiful?” 

“Y-yes, Logan, so fucking good,” you cry out as he rocks into you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place. You hope there’s a bruise there later—proof that he touched you, proof that he fucked into you like the world was ending. 

His cock rubs against your walls, your muscles contracting around him, sucking him in deeper. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans. He’s taking all of you, hard and fast. You can feel him twitching inside you, throbbing with the same need you feel pulsing through your veins. 

Logan kisses your jaw, and then just underneath, biting down on your pulse point. You arch your back, your chest meeting his. The contact is delicious, the friction a necessity. He thrusts into you faster now, doing his all to satiate your every need. He’s getting you there, pump after pump, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time. 

It’s working. You can feel yourself slipping again, melting. “Logan,” you hum, too fucked out to say anything other than his name. That beautiful name, like a song in the air, a gentle prayer, a holy ghost. He’s all you need—all you’ve ever needed. 

Your walls contract, squeezing him tightly. “Fuck,” he mutters. You know he’s close too. He strokes your clit, circling roughly. “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it, let me get you there again.” 

“Lo,” you cry, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he fucks into you, rutting his hips, plunging deeper still. It’s all too much. You can feel the pleasure drumming inside you, coming to a head. 

Logan loosens his grip on your hip and slides his hand behind your back, pulling you into his chest. You rest your forehead against his. “Come on my cock, princess, let go.” And you do. You’d do anything for him. You moan as your orgasm tears through you. It’s all blinding white heat, liquid smooth, pleasure wracking your body. 

Logan curses under his breath, close behind. He pulses inside you once, and then he’s coming undone. Your arms wrap around his back, keeping him close, letting him know it’s okay to finish inside. He fills you up, whispering praises in your ear as you both come down from your high. Such a good fucking girl. Did so good for me. So fucking good. Perfect little pussy.

He’s still inside you, pumping slowly as you ride out your orgasm. His fingers let go of your clit, his hands running up your back and tugging you closer to him. He slowly pulls out, keeping you tight against his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You take a deep breath, waiting for the heat to build again, waiting for that need to surge every cell of your being. But there’s nothing. Your nerves are suddenly quiet—silent. 

“I-I think it’s over,” you stutter, still nervous that maybe it’s not. He keeps you there, holding you tightly, ready to start again if necessary. 

After a few minutes, you let yourself relax. It’s not coming back. It’s over. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. “I’ve still got you. Not going anywhere.” Your heart rate has finally slowed down. The heat is gone. You feel comfortable in your skin again. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into Logan’s chest. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Logan reassures, his voice gentle and soft. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still feel a sting in your heart. You need to make him know that you meant what you said—need him to know exactly how you feel. You swallow nervously, ready to bite the bullet. 

“Logan,” you breathe. “I-I meant everything I said. It wasn’t just the pollen.” You pull yourself from his chest, looking up at him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you…” you trail off. “S-still need you now. Nothing’s changed.” 

He smiles down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know, darlin’,” he husks. “I wanted you before, and I still do, too.” 

“I know you wanted it to be different. I know it wasn’t—” But he cuts you off, his lips capturing yours, quieting your anxious rambles. “We’ll have other chances. Other times to do it the way I want.” He smirks, running his hands up and down your back. 

Other chances. Other times. More. More. More. “Yeah?” You ask. 

“Yeah, princess.”

tags: @wolviesgirl @dojacatswink @dilf420 @spiderset @pleasantlycrazyworld @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @y-ns-things

[dcxdpdabbles]

Oh my god, you laid out freelance inventor perfectly for the justice league to mistake Danny for Batman, especially with John Jones already making his thoughts known that Bruce wayne would be the perfect himbo for Batman lol. Does the entire league pull together to make a beach day seem intentional and end up making so many mistaken assumptions along the way? Either way, I adore what you have going. I'm kinda curious if you had any thoughts on Damians' first reaction to meeting Danny? If not, that's okay. I just love the thought of Danny bonding with Damian in a feral way or through sparing like ghosts tend to in this fandom

The first time Danny meets Damian Wayne is when he comes to the Manor for a surprise visit. He usually would have called ahead or messaged Alfred, but it was a last-minute decision to stop by Gotham on his way to Metropolis.

Initially, Danny was going to a technology expo hosted by Lexcorp, but it was delayed due to a giant fight. A robot had flung Superman through the convention hall, causing severe damage.

Since he now had a weekend free while Lexcorp searched for a new venue, he figured he would spend it with his favorite one percent. Imagine his surprise when he noticed the first thing he noticed was that Bruce had a biological son, one he had told to stay hidden.

He had told his displaced son not to venture out of the manner because he didn't want the public to know about him. Danny hadn't felt this angry in a long, long time.

The glare he sent Bruce had the man flinching, causing Damian, fresh to the Manor and not used to seeing his Father as anything but commanding, to raise an impressed eyebrow. "Kids. Bed. Now. I want to talk to your Father."

"No." Bruce cowered. "Please stay, kids."

"Sorry Bruce, I actually have to touch up some photos for this month's photo op," Tim was quick to say, jumping from his seat.

"I also really need to get started on some paperwork for the gymnastic gym." Dick laughed nervously, dropping out of the handstand he was in. Danny never understood how the young man could randomly spring into flips and handstands.

Damian did not inch from his chair, though. He meets Danny's gaze with a cool upturn of his nose and crossed arms.

"You have no control over me or my actions, Harlot," Damian hissed, but a pale Dick and Tim pushed him out. Jason had been out on some far-off island trip with his friends- Roy, Kori, Artemis, and that delightful Bizzarro who spoke like it was an opposite day every day.

He was the only person to whom he would not talk to Damian. Everyone else would look Danny in the eye and justify why they would assume that a child should be treated as a secret was the correct thing to do.

"Well?" Danny asks when all Bruce does is sit there, hands on his lap and sweating. He narrows his eyes, crosses his arms, and watches the sweat drip down Bruce's head. "Explain yourself."

"Danny, I swear I wasn't aware of Damian. His mother told me she had a miscarriage. If I had known, I would have told you-" Bruce started but was cut off by Danny marching across the room and practically snaring into his face.

"That's not why you're in trouble, Bruce. Why are you treating a nine-year-old boy like a dirty secret?!"

"um..well, that's...you need to understand he's a bit unstable-"

"Choose your next words very carefully, Bruce." Danny cuts him off, recrossing his arms. Bruce swallows before he seems to gather unknown courage and straightens out his back.

"Danny, I don't think Damian needs to be a secret forever, but he needs to adjust before he can go out. He had a hard life with his birth mother and tends to lash out in violent outbursts. Just last week, he pushed Tim off the stairway!"

That's alarming. In fact, it isn't very good to think Tim would not be safe in the same household as Damian. They talk more about it, especially the part where Damian makes clear he wishes to replace Tim and would do nothing to remove him.

Damian is a threat to Tim's well-being. He mentions this to Bruce, who waves it way like a damn fool.

"Tim can handle it."

"Just because he can doesn't mean he should," Danny growls, throwing his arms into the air. "I can't talk to you right now. I can't even look at you."

"Danny, please-"

"Nope. I will tell Tim to stay with me, and I will make plans to take Damian out and about. If you treat someone like a criminal, they will act like one. I'm going to help that young boy settle here, but I will not do it at the expense of another. Don't call or message me." Danny growls, strutting out of the room only to practically run into Damian.

The boy raises his chin as if daring Danny to tell him off for eavesdropping. For one second, Danny is reminded of Jazz, back when she had been so insistent that she was an adult.

His eyes soften, and he knows Damian can see based on his surprise blink. "H kid have you had the chance to go into Gotham yet?"

"Why would I waste my time with the peasants? I am an elite warrior, destined to rule over them."

Huh. He reminds Danny a lot of Jazz now, with her anti-social tendencies- not that she refused to be around people, more like she refused to make friendships with people her age because she thought herself too mature for them- and a little of the battle-hungry ghosts in the Zone.

He can handle that.

"You are to be a general, right? Why are you acting like a common foot soldier?" He asks, watching the boy's entire demeanor freeze over. "A good ruler is not just combat strength. They can take command and can easily step among their fighters. How can you do that if you do not understand the common folk's way of thinking?"

Damian opened and closed his mouth before narrowing his eyes. "You mock me."

Danny shakes his head, falling to his knees so Damian won't need to strain his neck. He keeps the baby talk out of his voice but only barely. He gets the sense that like his sister, Damian would prefer to be treated like a mini adult. "Never. I'm genuinely interested in your thoughts, but you must know that all knowledge is power. Know thy enemy..."

"...as one knows thyself," Damian finishes his quote, looking vaguely intruded. He considers the offer before nodding. "I shall accompany you on your outing and gain valued observations of the average American child."

"Only after you apologize for attacking Tim and tell him to his face how you will not be doing that again," Danny warns, raising a finger at Damian's clouded face. "A good leader does not want insubordination. Attacking Tim did not prove anything but how unreliable you are and how much you fear Tim."

"I do not fear Drake!"

"Then why does his presence so threaten you? Bruce told me how out of all his kids, you seemed so sure you could take him in a fight but not a battle of wits."

Damian's eyes grow cold before he lashes out a hand. Danny catches it quickly, much to the boy's shock. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Not bad, but not what a regular American child would behave. You would have been singled out as a spy the second you stepped in the street."

"....I shall work on my reaction and emotional regulation." Damian yanks his arm free, striding away but not before glancing back at Danny. "You are strange."

Danny smiles. "Thanks, kiddo."

The boy vanishes from sight, and Danny sighs. He must now find Tim and help him pack to stay with him. He also needs to yell at everyone in the Manor, including Alfred. Honestly, that man enables Bruce far too much.

[moonlesslights]

Miguel O’hara in Love

Headcanons.

━━━━━━ ✿ 🕷️ ❀ ━━━━━

A/N: I was really looking forward to write this, because I just can’t get this whole idea out of my head.

Warnings: Basically none, a little bit of angst maybe?, some smut references and depictions. Miguel being Miguel. Kinda obsessive (?)

This text is based in that frase of Joe Goldberg: “There’s not a line, in the world, that I wouldn’t cross for you”. So be prepared.

Enjoy, my loves. Every comment or request is welcomed! 🤍

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Miguel was curious of you from the very moment he met you. Such a unique presence among all the others.

You had been bitten just a month ago. And it was hard for you. He saw you struggle, falling over and over again, training till exhaustion, fighting to be on the level of the others.

And the worst part of it all, was the guilt coming to attack him with every side eye Jessica gave to him. “If you weren’t going to help her, you should have let her alone.” The woman had whispered while both of them looked at you fighting to climb another building. Miguel knew she was right. He was the one who insisted in bringing you immediately after they found you (only a couple of days after the bite), even when Jessica insisted to give you time for you to figure it out alone. Miguel wasn’t having it, and now… “She’s been at it for the whole morning.” The woman pursed her lips, shaking her head.

What Jessica didn’t quite know was that Miguel hadn’t left you alone all this time… He wasn’t good at talking, that was true. He wasn’t good at showing his support with words, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care.

You let out a pained groan when you finally plop on the concrete of the building’s rooftop. Every single muscle of your body aches and you can fell your heart pounding harshly against your ribcage, making it feel like every breath that makes it to your lungs it’s just a mere miracle.

The weight of the presence of someone standing beside you forces you to blink out of your thoughts. Tiredly, you look up, finding Miguel's mask glaring back at you with a deep frown you can make out of the way his eyes curve.

He holds a white little package on his right and he hands it to you before finally sitting down without making a single sound. It had all started like a little game between the two of you: You pretend you don’t see his figure hovering above a building while you train, or his silhouette watching you getting back to The Society place safely. You also pretend you don’t know it’s him who leaves bandages and painkillers over your bed every day with a little chocolate next to it. And he pretends he doesn’t know that you know.

You cross your legs and smile when you open the small box on your hands, smelling the sweet scent of warm and fresh food. You also take notice of how he changed one of the things he brought you last time, you didn’t have the heart to tell him, but you were sure now he definitely noticed you didn’t like it.

“Eat.” He orders and you are too tired to remark his tone of voice with a roll of your eyes. So you nod, bringing a big spoonful of pasta and vegetables to your mouth, thanking him with a big smile. Smile he doesn’t return. He never does anyway. But now it’s not like always. He’s pissed. “When was the last time you ate?”

You look straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. You swallow, slowly, feeling his eyes burning on the side of your head.

“Mhm… Not long ago, no.” You answer, mumbling while you get more food into your mouth. Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“Training this much without any nutriments won’t do anything good for you…”

“Training this much won’t do anything anyway.” You sigh, keeping then the fork between your lips. Miguel wishes to say something but he can’t find the words, he can’t order his thoughts inside his head to place them on his tongue and tell you just how much you have improved since the first day, so he gladly receives your bright eyes turning to him when you seem to remember: “But I finally climbed this building, see? Without using any web, only my spider fingers.”

The man nods at you waving playfully at him. The determination in your eyes even when your whole body wanted to give up, even when you know you’re still not close to go on a mission by yourself (or with anyone else), even when you probably couldn’t even sleep fine because of the sore bruises, the determination in your eyes didn’t flatter.

That made him feel something deep is his hands, a tingle he couldn’t control. And he hated it.

“Tomorrow at seven.” He sentences, standing on his feet again.

You frown, raising big eyes at him. The brightness in them when the weight of his words hit you destabilizes him.

“For real?”

“Yes.” He looks away. “If I don’t train you you’re not getting anywhere.”

His comment goes unnoticed for the excitement running all along your body.

“Ok.” You nod, trying to look professional but failing miserably.

He grunts in response, soon jumping off of the building and losing among all of the city chaos. In some minutes he would be back at the Society lobby. You… An hour. Give or take.

Training with Miguel was nothing but… Hell.

No, it actually wasn’t. You expected you could say that to make people thing you were having it hard, but he insisted on starting with the basics… basics that you already felt like being good at.

Still, climbing had become easier within the first week of training with him. The tips and advices he insisted you to follow helped you thinking of it more like a game than a must do.

Swinging was still a tricky one. You used to lose your balance when the demanded velocity was too much. Panic rushed over you, feeling like you would crash against a window or a fucking person, or another spider doing their own training.

“Trust your senses.” Miguel said to you every time you fell, and every time you death glared at him for that. He didn’t have one of the most important senses for spider people and he still managed to be better than anyone you could have known. You had them all, and they all seemed to be a mess when you tried to use them.

Soon enough, Miguel learned about a way to motivate you: Rewards. Most of the time was food, some others, the promise of letting you rest for more that five minutes was enough. For a week now, it had been a little bit different.

History. You loved it. And you changed any delicious and tasty food for hours listening to Miguel explaining everything about the multiverse and the tangled webs between all of you. He had told you about his first travels to other Earths at least three times, but you couldn’t seem to get tired.

You might not tell him how much his voice soothes you after a long day out, but it wasn’t necessary, he could see it. On the other hand, he definitely would never tell you how he glanced at you, completely asleep after another history session, memorizing every breath, every mole and freckle, counting every single one of your eyelashes like the stars on the sky above you.

No. You would never find out about that.

Today was supposed to be just like any other day: quiet, calm and premeditated. Nothing out of the routine you and Miguel had adopted for the past four weeks.

But with you, things were never that easy. Boredom was a dangerous thing for you, Miguel had learned it by now. The hard way. If something became not enough exciting for your restless self, you would look for that spark of adrenaline at any cost. It was part of your determination. Heart of a lion. He knew that. But it didn’t change the fact he would have to save you from breaking a few bones every once in a while.

“I’m sorry” You would say after he dropped you on the safe floor again. He would turn to look at you, fire running up his veins. Every time he wanted to yell at you, to snap and tell you it was the last time you do something like that. And every time he would sigh, pressing both finger on the bridge of his nose, finally grunting in a low voice:

“Desobedeciste deliberadamente.” A month was enough for you to know exactly what those words meant.

“I know.”

“You could have hurt yourself.”

“I know…” Then the bright eyes. Always the bright eyes. “But I have to try, I can’t depend on you forever. Getting hurt it’s just part of the way.”

He hated you were right. He lost count of how many broken ribs he got on his first years, of how many scars he still hides under his suit. Eventually, you would have to learn to stand up even if you’re bleeding. Even if you’re dying.

He is not mad at you for disobeying, that’s bullshit. He admired that of you, actually. You don’t act by fear, you do not fear him. You follow your heart even when you know you could get in trouble for it. No, he’s mad because every time he catches you before you hit the ground, all he can think about is that there’s going to be a moment where he won’t be there to do it. And the sound of your body crashing against the concrete, of your pain, would follow him till the darkest moments of the night, where he curses the day you’ll scream his name and he will be too far away to hear it.

“I want to change my reward for today.” You smile at him, both of your hands behind your back, making him suspicious of your teasing voice.

“You’re not going anywhere with Hobie.” He responds in a neutral voice, starting to walk in front of you.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head before getting in front of him and starting to walk backwards so you could keep facing him.

“It’s not that.” You insist. He doesn’t answer and you know that’s his way of telling you to go on. You sigh. “I want to see you without your mask.”

That makes him stop dead on his tracks. He tilts his head, questioning you with curious eyes. That’s all you wanted? No, you wanted that? Why?

Were you really that bored?

“I feel like everyone here has seen you at least one time, except for me. And it’s not fair.” You got a point on that. He spends most of his time training you, you share almost every meal together, he’s the last person you usually talk everyday because you’re too tired to do anything other than going to your room and sleep. You have spent entire days with him, you have cried and made a mess of yourself in front of his presence, and you didn’t even know his face.

You can deny the sting of irritation you get every time Hobie or Gwen, or any other come talking about what they said during the meeting before a mission, meetings where, you had learnt, Miguel used to take off his mask. Peter told you it wasn’t that big of a deal. You wanted to punch him.

“If that’s what you want.” Miguel crosses his arms, tilting his head at you. “Now go tra-…”

You were gone before he could even finish his sentence. He sees your figure going around the building he chose for this particular session. Your swinging had gotten better over the last weeks and the confidence you had in yourself had also been improving, showing your true strength for him to see.

Jessica insisted on you being ready to train at the top levels with the others inside The Society training center, or at least to try. But Miguel profusely refused. He had designed many of the levels to train there, he knew the damage they could cause to someone not prepared to face them.

He blame it on his sense of responsibility over you the fact that he denied any attempt to put you on an unnecessary risk, but deep down, he knew that from the moment he stepped in front of you while you cried for that death he knew all too well now, and then observed how you wiped your tears and showed him your fists, ready to fight him despite everything… He was fucked.

You were the little thing he decided to protect even if it costed his life. The little thing that trusted his claws to hold at her, that puts its life on the line without a second thought. It is not his fault to have never experienced anything like this, to don’t know what to do, to act like a fool, to refuse to lose it… How they cannot understand?

“Done.” You jump in front of him, getting him out of his thoughts.

He looks up, seeing all of the targets on the building covered by a good layer of web. Your precision could be better, but you’re getting at it.

He sighs. He turns to face you completely before ordering his nanotechnology to uncover his face. Dark wavy hair falls onto his temples, brown skin glimmers under the heavy sun above you, full lips press against each other and two cold brown eyes glare down at you.

When you don’t say anything, he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?”

You nod without waiting for another question.

“I just wanted to see your eyes.” You answer confident, smiling softly at him.

It is enough to say he never wore his mask on around you ever again.

Miguel O'Hara isn’t good in what emotion management respects.

He knows it, but he doesn’t have the time or care to try to do something about it.

It wasn’t that big of a deal…

Yeah, it wasn’t that big of a deal until one specially busy morning where he couldn’t make it to your first training, he went on looking for you… And he couldn’t find you.

He went to your room, your favorite places; he went looking all around the city, praying to find you just jumping above some buildings. But you were nowhere to be found. And it wasn’t until one Peter took mercy on him that pointed the worst place to be pointed: The training center.

With his heart going a thousand miles per hour, he started to look for you inside the complex. And when he caught a glimpse of Jessica looking up with a proud smile, he knew exactly where you were.

“She’s doing even better than I could’ve imagined. You’re a great mentor, Miguel.”

“Why is she here?” He answered immediately. Jess raised an eyebrow at him, confused by the uneasiness on his voice.

“Does that really matter? Look at her, Miguel!” She pointed at you with her extended hand. “Aren’t you proud of her?”

Of course he was. But what he couldn’t stand was someone else messing and taking choices over the one and only thing he has. So instead of answering her question, he sentenced: “Don’t ever get close to her again.”

“Miguel…”

“You can mess around with any other, but there is a fucking line, Jess. You chose yours, and I respect them. Don’t mess with mine.”

When he finally appeared in front of you, you smiled brightly at him. He looked like any other day, completely unfazed and with a calmed expression you were so used to see by now.

“Time to call it a day, don’t you think?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You were sweating, you arms were trembling and you could barely control your breath by now, and still… You shook your head.

“I want to try this level one last time.” He was ready to talk you out of it but your pleading eyes made him look down at Jess, who, with a single movement, made him understand what she was talking about.

“Fine, but I’ll be with you every step of the way, got it?” His frustration made you giggle when you nodded.

You didn’t make it till the end of the level, but you tried, and that was all that mattered to you. To Miguel, having been able to take you to the wall before you crashed against a crystal under you was the main thing that mattered.

It had been a whole experience, but it remained like that. Enough time at least for him to push his way of react behind him. Until something made it snap again.

His eyes fly to all of the cameras in front of him, fixing his pupils in whatever screen he could catch a glimpse of your suit.

The threat they were expecting for your first mission ended up being a lot more aggressive and capable than hoped. You and your partner had already received a few good hits by the time Miguel reached for the Call button.

“How are you?” Is the first thing you hear when you press ‘answer’.

“Never better.” You reply, smiling at the interface of your pretty boss clenching his jaw.

“Need help?”

You immediately shake your head. “Not at all, we’re managing just fine.” Your figure distorts while you swing around. Heavy steps following you up close. “I gotta go, Miguel. See you back at home.”

“No, wai-…” He widens his eyes, trying to reach you before you end the call. His fists tighten and his eyes close, fighting to keep himself calm.

But our man can’t catch a break, because as soon as his breath starts to get back to its normal speed, a camera showing on one of the screens burst out with a big clatter, forcing his eyes open only to see his worst fear take form in front of him.

You were struggling against the anomaly, kicking your feet in the air and trying desperately to get his hands off your neck. Your partner was nowhere to be seen. You appear to lose you patience when you stop fighting and instead shoot webs to the creature’s eyes. The anomaly maddens, and throws you against the next building on the street.

Miguel's eyes follow your body across two cameras, watching in horror the blood dripping from your mouth when you cough after the blow, struggling to get on your feet again.

His hands move quicker than he can process, bringing all the information about the Earth you were on for him to see.

“Miguel.” Jessica calls from behind.

“Where the hell did you send her?” He whispers, reading the screen displayed. “I told you she wasn’t ready to go.”

“Miguel, look.” She insists, this time with a more demanding voice.

But the man can’t think of anything else more than you bleeding. Alone and injured.

“You said it was an easy one.” He growls in a low and dangerous voice.

“I’m…”

“I told you she wasn’t ready!” He snaps, looking back at her. His fangs pinch on his lower lip, so hard he can feel a drop of scarlet liquid running down his chin.

And it’s not until Jess takes a step back and Lyla calls his name that he realizes the way his claws had ripped the metal in front of him.

And then… A call.

He blinks out of his trance, looking up at the screen with your name on it. He hits ‘answer’ and your dirty suit and scratched face make an appearance.

His red eyes relax at the sight, returning to those soft brown irises and dark pleased pupils reserved only for you. He hides his fangs and his claws are no longer nowhere to see. Just you. It was just you again. And you were okay.

“Miguel, look!” You smile at him, pointing the camera on your watch for him to see your partner finishing to tie up the anomaly. “We got it!”

“Yeah, yeah, I see.” He can’t help but let out a small glimpse of a smile over his lips, nodding at your excitement.

“Oh, you’re smiling. Wait for me to come back, I wanna see it in person.” And just like that, his smile is gone.

“Don’t take any longer. Both of you, come back as soon as possible.”

And with that, the call is ended once again, leaving him in a room with heavy air and thick silence. He jumps off of the platform, still glaring at Jessica in silence.

“You know that wasn’t right.” She whispers. “The way you’re acting it isn’t right, Miguel.”

He shakes his head, slowing his movements until he remains still just a few feet away from the entrance.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” He murmurs.

“Oh, now I don’t know?!” She opens her mouth with indignation, but Miguel doesn’t alter.

“It’s not like that and you know it.” He hisses. “I have lost everything in this world. I am utterly alone. And even between us, there a strings that doesn’t tangle. You have a husband and a soon to come baby, a family that awaits for you at home, but what do I have, Jess?”

The woman, for the first time, remains silent.

“I have her. I only have her.” He says. “Not a single thing in this world belongs to me but her. Everything else have been taken away from me, everything I once had has disappeared: my job, my life, my normal life. If she’s ripped from my hands, I have nothing left. And I cannot keep fighting for a life I don’t want to live. This is not only for her, Jess. If I lose her, I will tear the universe apart with my own hands.”

A single shiver ran down her spine, watching Miguel exiting the complex to find you arriving almost at the same moment.

She watched how his threat takes meaning when you wrap your arms around him and his eyes brighten at the sound of your laugh.

She knows that if they ever were to lose that light, the whole multiverse would dim with them.

Miguel wanted to own you.

He wasn’t good at hiding it.

His hands would come to your hips, grabbing your tights or caressing your waist under your clothes.

Your scent would drive him into his animalistic side at every given moment. Until the point he would have to step meters away from you during the meetings in order to keep himself from the smell of your hair and your soft skin.

But when he didn’t keep himself from you, he would come from behind you, embracing you with his whole body. His face would bury in the curve of your neck, sending shivers with his tongue coming out, tracing a single line till reaching your ear, where he would whisper what he wants, where he would ask you to let him touch you.

When you say yes, he would drop his head and sink your fingers on your tender skin, pressing his hips against your body when you throw your head back, allowing him to do as he wished so with you, to mark you as his as many times as he wanted.

“Miguel…” You sigh this time, feeling his hands clinging at your suit, desperate to touch your skin instead.

He had just returned from a mission that had kept him away from you three days. You had imagined he would’ve returned tired and ready to sleep for fifteen hours, but instead he took you straight into his bedroom and pushed you against the wall, where he now holds you still with both of his arms.

“Take it off.” He whispers, tugging again at your suit. He was being nice this time, and you thank him internally for that. You don’t have the strength to ask Lyla for another suit.

You complain with a happy humming, letting your body fully exposed before him except for your panties still covering your ass and pussy.

The man switches off his own suit, letting you see up close the tent under his boxers. His fingers grasp at your thighs, forcing your legs open for him. Two of his digits run along your folds over your panties for around ten seconds before he decides to tore away your undergarment and place his hand back at your sex.

You would have complained about his behavior but his fingers pressing down on your clit rip only a moan out of your throat. He plays with your sensitive bundle until you’re wet and seconds away from an orgasm he pretends to steal away when he stops his movements.

“No, please…” You cry out, your legs threatening to give up.

“Shhh, patience, mi amor, I’m not done yet.” With one hand he pushes you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his neck for support before he starts eating you out like a starved man.

You tighten your tights around his head, almost screaming at your over sensitive pussy being stimulated even more, with his tongue pushing in and out for a while until he takes it to your clit again, sucking in, ripping another hard cry out of you. You are so close. And when he finally joins in two of his fingers to curve inside of you, it’s your end.

You scream his name, clenching around his digits, making him growl enough to feel the vibration running down your skin. He guides you through all of it until you finally seem to catch your breath again.

But then, he takes out his fingers and drops his boxes to the floor. His dick throbbed painfully, making him hiss when he stroke it a few times before pressing against you, chest to chest, and bottoming out all the way with a single thrust.

“Fuck, Miguel!” You throw your head back as he does the contrary, sinking his fangs into your skin, trying not to lose control.

“May I move?” He asks, breathing heavily on your skin.

You nod.

“Yes, yes, please move.” He groan in pleasure at your words, starting to move your hips in and down to match the rhythm of his.

You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning sweetly against his ear while he pick up the pace. Soon enough, only the sound of skin slapping on skin could be heard around you, with nothing but your moans and gasps indicating him where he had to thrust, and his deep growls showing you how close he was.

“Cum for me.” He says, pushing your back back to the wall with his hand around your neck, squeezing you under his fingers. “I wanna see you cum.” He demands, making of his pace nothing but a mess of thrusts.

He was so close, he just needed…

“Miguel!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting out desperate whimpers when your legs tremble around him and your walls clench around his cock, sending him so high he has to bite you again to avoid a throaty moan escape from him.

You could barely begin to feel your toes again when you feel him tightening his grip around you before walking out to the bed.

He was ready for the next round.

…

Thank you so much for coming all this way!

PD: I know Miguel fangs have paralyzing venom but let’s just pretend he can choose when to use it and when don’t.

This might not be good but I had the idea of this thread of story and I just wanted to write it.

I hope you have at least enjoyed some of it.

Love y’all. Sending a lot of love. See ya. <3

PD2: I’m trying to work now on a Sub!Miguel thing. It may be still a couple of days from it, but I want to be good. And I haven’t decided if it would be just porn or porn with plot. So let me know!

PD3: I’ll be doing cleaning and correction between today and tomorrow.

[daisynik7]

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.5k

cw: established relationship, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), rough sex, blow job, cunnilingus, bondage, blindfold, use of safe word, slight degradation (use of the word slut), explicit language, safe word, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, princess, honey), aftercare 

Summary: You send your husband an eggplant emoji as a joke, but he doesn't find it amusing one bit.

Author’s Notes: Barely proofread, hardly edited, all horny. Just my little contribution to the plethora of delicious fics that came out after this latest episode. Tagging @lovekento because this was inspired by your recent ask about the safeword audio we love so much. Also tagging @darkstarlight82 because of your recent ask to be tagged in JJK fics! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading! MDNI and support dividers credit to @/cafekitsune (as always).

Nanami does not take kindly to jokes. Years of being together and he’s uptight as always. That doesn’t mean you stop trying, especially when you love how mad he gets at you.

It’s innocent, silly, completely unserious. I’m really craving something tonight, followed by suggestive emojis, including the winky face and a particularly phallic vegetable. You grin at your screen when you notice the three dots blinking, indicating that he’s read it and is currently typing a reply. Probably growing hard in his pants just thinking about it, knowing him. Before he can say anything, you send him a selfie of you at the grocery store, holding up two large eggplants, smiling wide at the camera. Eggplant parmesan! The dots flash once more, then disappear immediately, and you crack up in the middle of the produce section when he ends up not responding at all. 

Back home, it’s eerily dark inside with all the lights off. You carefully set your groceries on the counter, clicking the switch to illuminate the kitchen. You’re startled when you notice Nanami’s burly silhouette in the living room, back turned towards you, sitting upright on the couch, motionless. He does nothing to acknowledge your presence, worrying you even further. “Honey?” you call out, slowly making your way towards him. His arms are crossed over his chest, bulging out of his sleeves, staring straight ahead with a menacing look on his face. He remains silent, ignoring you. 

“Kento,” you say, swallowing hard, nervous at this unusually sinister behavior.   

“Thought you were craving something.” His voice is low and husky in his throat. Almost threatening.  

You kneel in front of him, leaning on his thighs. “It was a joke, honey.”

Finally, he looks at you, gaze intense from behind his glasses, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep inhale through his nose, exhale out his mouth. “So, you riled me up for no fucking reason then?”

You gulp loudly again, taken aback by his sudden vulgarity, simultaneously aroused. “I’m sorry, Kento.”

“Do you think I’m going to let you get away with this?” He grips your chin, focusing your attention on his lap. “Look how hard I am. Look at what your stupid joke did to me.” His massive erection is strained in his pants. Your pussy throbs, mouth salivating at the sight of it.

He unbuckles his belt and splits his zipper open. “You know what you have to do, don’t you sweetheart?” He shrugs his pants down enough to free his cock, veins protruding on the thick shaft. You nod silently, peering up at him with wide eyes, parting your lips, hungry for him. 

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters, stroking himself in his fist, precum oozing from the tip. “Stick out your tongue.” You do, letting it hang from your bottom lip, mouth open.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “So obedient for me.” He swipes his thumb over his cockhead, collecting the precum to smear it onto your tongue. “Swallow. Get a taste of it before you take me.”

You obey, relishing the salty, luscious flavor down your throat, your eyes never leaving his. He smirks, tracing your lips with his thumb, the first hint of softness since you this all started. “I’m going to ruin this mouth. Understand?” 

You nod again, panties wet with your arousal. Hoping he doesn’t notice, you reach between your legs, desperate to touch yourself. He catches you, using his foot to swat your arm away. “Ah, ah, ah. You’ll have your turn later.” He loosens the spotted tie on his neck to cover your eyes with it, knotting it tight. “There. Nothing except my cock to occupy this little head of yours.” He guides his cock into your mouth, sliding it along your tongue until he bottoms out. “Now, suck,” he demands, your face pressed to his groin, bottom lip grazing his heavy balls. You bob your head back and forth on him, drool leaking from the sides of your lips, teasing your gag reflex with every solid thrust, swallowing it down every time he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he whispers, cradling your face. “Such a good fucking slut for me.”

After several more strokes, he pulls out of you, cock wet with your saliva, squelching between his fist as he continues to jerk himself off. “On my lap. Come on.” He lends his hand, helping you up while the blindfold remains. You bend over his thighs, in position for a spanking, just as he expects. 

He chuckles. “Good girl. You already know that you need to be punished, huh? Always playing these ridiculous pranks on me. I hope you learn your lesson after this.” He slides the belt off his waist, binding your wrists behind your back, shoulders in an uncomfortable stretch as the leather digs into your skin. The need to be touched by him overwhelms you, body tingling with anticipation, pussy aching to be filled. 

He pulls your pants down, leaving you only in your panties from the waist down. The first spank sends shivers down your spine, the loud smack bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, flesh prickling from the contact. The second comes almost immediately, surprising you. You whimper, shutting your eyes, clenching your legs together. “Kento.”

A third is delivered, your ass throbbing and swelling against his calloused hand. “What?” he growls, palm ready for a fourth. 

“Fuck me,” you whine, jittering on his lap. You can’t take it anymore. You want him. You need him. 

“Oh, so you’re giving orders now?” He rolls you on your back, tugging your panties off, exposing your glistening cunt. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You know that. I can’t just give you what you want after what you did to me.” He spreads your legs apart, teasing your slit with his fingers, spreading your slick across your swollen clit. “Look how fucking juicy you are. All that because I fucked your throat. Nasty slut.”

You hear him spit, then feel the trickle of his saliva coat your aching bud. He repeats, soaking you in his spittle. He readjusts himself on the couch so that he’s between your legs, licking and slurping your cunt until his chin and nose are glossy. You squirm, knees shaky, already pushed to your limits. His lips surround your clit, sucking on it until it’s puffy in his mouth, tongue flicking it aggressively, pussy fluttering with arousal. You’re overstimulated, core incredibly tight, ready to fucking burst. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he muffles, still slobbering. “Come on my face. Squirt all over this couch. I’m going to fucking embarrass you like you did me, you stupid slut.” You whine his name, gushing for him, rutting your hips against his face, writhing on the cushions damp with your juices. 

He rolls you over again, dragging your body until you’re up on your knees, ass up. “I’m going to wreck this pussy. Pound it until you learn your lesson. Got it?”

You nod erratically, ready to be fucked hard and fast. He enters you smoothly, stretching you out until you’re completely full of him, everything so wet and messy between you. He pumps his cock in and out of you, pace increasing the more and more your body yields to him. He fucks you like an animal in heat, railing your cunt like it’s his own personal cock sleeve for him to use and tear apart. 

Blindfolded and still bound by the wrists, you begin to grow scared of his carnal behavior. His nails imprint your skin, grip so strong it hurts with every brutal thrust. The guttural growls he emits sound nothing like the Nanami you know. The way he bullies his cock into your tight pussy, so deep and so rough that a cramp develops in your abdomen makes you think that the person fucking you is a complete stranger now. You want your husband back. It takes you a few tries to get it out, but eventually, you do, whimpering, “Makgeolli.”

He doesn’t hear you, so you say it once more, louder this time. “Makgeolli.”

Immediately, it’s as if a switched is flipped. He pulls out, quickly removing the belt and blindfold off you, his tie saturated in tears and sweat. “Hey, hey, hey. Sweetie, I’m here. I’m right here. You’re okay.” He pulls you up on his lap, cradling you in his arms, kissing your sticky forehead, brushing away any of the remaining tears from your eyes. 

You relax into his hold, nestling your face into his shoulder, steadying your breathing. He massages your back, pressing soft kisses on your cheek. “I’m sorry, princess. I’m so sorry. I got carried away, I admit it.” His voice is soothing now, familiar and comforting in your ear. 

Sniffling, you ask, “Are you mad at me?”

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “I was never mad to begin with. I just wanted to tease you, but I took it too far. I’m sorry.” He kisses you on the lips, cupping your check in his palm. “Your joke was actually quite funny.”

You giggle softly, running your fingers through his hair, damp with his own perspiration. “At least I got you to finally admit it.”

He gives you another smooch on the forehead, lacing his fingers with yours. “I’ll run us a bath, okay? And then after, we can order pizza and watch a movie. Sound good?”

“Yes. And I’ll help you with this while we’re soaking in the tub. Does that sound good?” You palm his cock, still stiff and wet against his abs. 

“Whatever you want, princess.”

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader - reader POV

You have a problem.

You miss your neighbor.

He's been gone for two and a half weeks, and every day you catch yourself holding your breath, listening for him next door. Watching for the light on his balcony, checking your phone relentlessly.

You've been worrying, anxiety turning into a gnawing ache beneath your ribs, wondering about how he is, what he's doing, if he's okay. If he's safe.

He'll text you. Right? When he's home? He said he would, didn't he? You're not sure. Not sure of anything when it comes to him, confusing thoughts and feelings turning over and over in your head every second, twisted up and tangled in your heart.

You've friend zoned yourself, you know it. Relying on him too much, asking him for help all the time, inviting him for dinners but too afraid to try to take the next step. And didn't you do it to yourself anyway? Didn't you ask him to babysit for you, so you could go out on a date with some asshole that didn't even show? He's your friend. He's your neighbor.

Yeah but he asked you to go for dinner, the night you were sick. And he rushed to you and Emma when that creep was following you in the park. Doesn't that mean something?

He asked you AND Emmaline to dinner, not like on a romantic date. And he did the same thing anyone would do, if they thought their friend was in trouble, didn't he?

He doesn't act like your neighbor. He acts more like... a husband, than anything else.

Not knowing is confusing, and on top of your grief, it makes you feel a little more vulnerable than you care to admit, but you can't deny your own truth. You like him. Even Emmaline likes him, little face smiling up at him every chance she gets, staring at him like he's the whole world. Maybe he is. You can't help but swoon over the way she interacts with him, how she settles so easily with him, how she coos and babbles at him like she's having a whole conversation with him. When he walks into a room, she lights up like the sun, happy baby giggles and everything, the sweet sounds of her glee at her favorite person's face like music to your ears. So unfair. You suffered for sixteen hours trying to give birth to her, alone... and he comes around for a few months and all the sudden you've been replaced.

You can't blame her too much, you guess. You get it. He's... something else. Something you're not sure you understand. Something you don't know you're ready for.

Still, you think he might feel the same way.

You shake your head. Stop. You're getting so far ahead of yourself.

Which is why you've convinced yourself that when he's home, the next time you see him, you're just going to buck up and do it. You're going to tell him how you feel. No matter how hard it is.

You've even practiced what you'll say. Staring at yourself in the mirror nervously, reciting different ways to say 'hey Simon I really like you and was wondering if you want to go out on a date even though I have a baby and am basically a widow.'

Emmaline cries, announcing that she's awake, and you're so quick to soothe her, holding her to your chest, whispering a good morning to her, rubbing her back and tummy as you always do. You think some people might say you're spoiling her, that you're not letting her cry long enough, that you're teaching her bad habits or manners but you can't help it. Her father died before she was even born. You're the only thing she has in this world, the only person that gives her love, that makes her feel safe-

or at least, you used to be.

You hear your neighbor in his flat hours and hours later. Well past sunset, Emmaline already sleeping in her crib, your dishes already done, little chores taken care of, and you're sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, watching a movie at a low hum.

Was that- is he?

You sit straight up, straining to listen. It takes a second, but eventually, you recognize the tell tale sound of an interior door closing, and then the balcony glows with the light from the inside.

He's home. You take a large gulp of wine, and a deep breath. Just go over there, and tell him how you feel.

Your fingers curl into a fist, hesitantly knocking at his door, holding your breath. When there's no response, you try again, a little louder, and then feel immense relief when the lock clicks.

Until it opens.

Simon doesn't look like himself. He looks lost. Haunted. There's remnant of black grease around his eyes and instead of being maskless or wearing the usual cloth one, his head is mostly covered by a balaclava bearing a skull, and his eyes are blank. Dark. Something is off.

"Hi." You squeak, and cringe inwardly, stomach flipping like you're on a carnival ride. You raise the two bottles of beer that you brought over with a meek smile, gesturing to them and the monitor. "Thought we could um... try this again?"

"No." His refusal is flat, rough, and you blink in surprise. No?

"Oh- I uh... just thought-"

"It's not a good time." He cuts you off, and then before you can even get another word out, the front door closes in your face, leaving you outside in the hall, bewildered. Hurt.

Guess he doesn't like you after all.

[thebettybook]

I, Roronoa Zoro, have a crush

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Characters: OPLA (One Piece Live Action) Roronoa Zoro x Straw-Hat-Crew-Member!gn!reader

Summary: Fluff headcanons of OPLA Zoro developing a crush on you + mini fluff scenarios

Warnings: Some OPLA spoilers ahead! Other than that, all fluff

Strawbetty’s notes: Dipping my toes into the One Piece fandom to say hello and give you my contribution to OPLA Zoro content :). Mackenyu as Zoro is fiiiiine. I finished the live action and I NEED MORE :’0. Currently watching the anime rn

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💚 Zoro didn’t like you at first when Luffy recruited you to be a part of the Straw Hats.

💚 Like how Zoro felt when he first met Luffy, Zoro found you overly optimistic and chatty—the complete opposite of himself.

💚 Zoro’s also someone who, despite being really perceptive, has a bad habit of making snap judgments against people he doesn’t know well and prefers to keep them at a distance, and he made the poor assumption that you probably never went through anything difficult in life since you seemed so happy all the time.

💚 Thus, he didn’t really go out of his way to talk to you or get to know you at first, unlike the rest of the crew, but you also didn’t mind too much. You’d greet him with a “good morning” every morning, but he’d only give you a nod.

💚 “Don’t mind him, he’s like that with all new crew members,” Nami reassured you.

💚 It wasn’t until a few days later when the entire crew was having dinner on deck under the stars—and you opened up about your life (the losses and hardships you’ve experienced despite being just a young adult)—that made Zoro change his mind about you.

💚 He surprised himself when he volunteered to help you wash the dishes after dinner, and surprised himself even more when he muttered, “Sorry.”

💚 “For what?” You raised a brow, water dripping from your fingers as you reached for a hand towel to dry your hands.

💚 “For not being so…friendly when you first joined,” Zoro’s eyes flickered up from the plates to your face.

💚 He couldn’t help but be taken aback when you gave him a smile—a smile so bright and kind it almost took his breath away. Sure, you smiled a lot at everyone, but this was the first time your smile was directed at just him up close.

💚 “It’s alright,” you chuckled, taking a plate he handed to you and placing it onto the drying rack. “I’m used to people assuming things about me.”

💚 “How do you do it?” Zoro crossed his arms, though his relaxed stance conveyed his sincere curiosity. “Smile all the time?”

💚 “Because smiling makes me happy,” you didn’t miss a beat. “And if I can do that for myself and my smile ends up making someone else happy, that’s good enough for me.”

💚 A half-smile quirked on Zoro’s lips at your words. You were a good person, and he was sorry he didn’t see that sooner.

💚 “See, you’re smiling now,” you teased, your smile growing.

💚 “Nope,” Zoro turned his attention to the utensils he had to wash, but his smile didn’t falter one bit.

💚 After that day, a friendship blossomed between you two. Some nights you’d find Zoro sharpening his blades, other nights he’d find you on deck gazing up at the stars while the others were asleep. Whatever the reasons that kept the two of you awake at night, they helped bring you two closer together.

💚 You and Zoro began your late night talks by sharing stories with each other about your childhoods and the people who helped shape your lives for the better. The two of you would even exchange banter and develop inside jokes.

💚 Zoro grew to feel safe in confiding with you about his innermost thoughts and feelings, and he made you feel safe in doing the same as well.

💚 As the months went by, Zoro would look forward to every opportunity he had to talk with you, whether that be during the day with the rest of the crew or at night with just the two of you.

💚 He had no doubt by now that he could call you someone he deeply cared for, especially when his heart would try to jump out of his chest whenever your hand accidentally brushed against his or when his heart squeezed like a towel being rung dry any time you got hurt during battle.

💚 But as someone who’s never thought about romance or had any experience with romantic relationships, Zoro didn’t really consider the possibility that he was falling for you.

💚 It didn’t take long for some of the crew members to see and realize that Zoro cared for you in a special way, though, especially as Zoro’s romantic feelings for you became more and more evident to the others through his actions.

💚 For example, Zoro would tell Sanji not once, not twice, but thrice that you didn’t like a specific ingredient in your meals because of allergies or whatnot, even though Sanji knew that already. One morning, Sanji caught Zoro making a horrible yet endearing attempt to make your favorite breakfast for you. With an amused smirk, Sanji offered to teach Zoro how to make your favorite breakfast (only after Zoro made Sanji swear to never tell anyone about it).

💚 Nami realized Zoro had feelings for you when she saw the way Zoro would protectively stand in front of you in the face of danger, or check on you if you sustained even a minor injury (even though everyone in the crew knew you could protect yourself). Nami didn’t bring it up since she didn’t think it was any of her business, but she’d have a small smile on her face whenever she saw Zoro perk up even just a tiny bit whenever you called his name.

💚 Usopp and Luffy didn’t really pick up on anything until Sanji let out an offhand comment in the kitchen about Zoro being “smitten” with you (luckily, you and Zoro were on deck practicing your combat skills with Nami).

💚 Of course, Sanji’s comment blew Usopp’s mind. Luffy, on the other hand, didn’t really listen and had his full attention on whatever dish Sanji was making for lunch.

💚 “Zoro’s got a cruuush,” Usopp sang that afternoon, slinging an arm around Zoro’s shoulders while Luffy came up next to them.

💚 Zoro turned his head to the side to check if you were nearby. Thankfully, you were nowhere in sight.

💚 “I don’t do crushes,” Zoro shrugged Usopp off at the same time Luffy asked, “Who’s got a crush?”

💚 “Listen, if you need love advice, I’m your guy,” Usopp insisted, trying to catch up to Zoro as he left Usopp and Luffy behind to go to his room. “I’ve had tons of relationships, trust me.”

💚 “Having barely one relationship doesn’t make you qualified to give me love advice,” Zoro replied coolly, referencing Kaya to Usopp, as he strode to his berth.

💚 “Ouch!” Usopp dramatically brought a hand to his heart. “My offer still stands though!”

💚 Zoro made his way into his room and shut the door behind him. He eased himself onto his hammock and his eyes flitted up to the wooden ceiling.

💚 The ocean waves beneath the ship were calm this afternoon, and the soft golden rays of sunlight shimmered onto his body through his room’s tiny circular window. Usually Zoro would take a nap by now, but he couldn’t help but wonder what stories you were going to share with him tonight or what corny jokes you were going to crack at dinner that would make him laugh despite himself.

💚 But most of all, he couldn’t wait to see you smile again. A smile began to stretch across his face as he pictured your smile—

💚 —“I don’t have a crush,” Zoro stated out loud defensively even though no one was there. He tried to will his lips into a straight line as he ran a hand through the cropped moss-green tufts of his hair and shut his eyes to take a nap.

💚 Instead, his eyes found themselves opening and next thing Zoro knew, he was already out the door.

💚 Zoro was thankful no one was with him at the moment, or they would’ve seen a grin on his face as he made his way to wherever you were in hopes of seeing your smile.

💚 I, Roronoa Zoro, have a crush.

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Important:

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :). Check out my OPLA Zoro fluff oneshot fic here Like my work? Support me on Ko-fi :D

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[bluejeanstrash]

rule no. 1

summary: you have a no-contact rule going with your ex, choi seungcheol, but fortunately unfortunately for you, he’s not really the type to follow them.

tags: ex! seungcheol x reader, seungcheol’s kind of toxic and doesn’t know how to let go, tit sucking (both cheol and reader), piv sex, protected sex, then unprotected sex (stay safe out there), pet names (daddy, good girl), cheol is written based off EXACTLY how he looks in these pictures | wc: 2.7k

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

8:11 PM

[choi seungcheol] hey

[you] what

[choi seungcheol] can we meet today?

[you] i don’t think that’s a good idea

[choi seungcheol] just to talk. nothing else. i swear.

[you] dude, what are you doing? you know we’re supposed to be going no contact. plus, it’s raining

[choi seungcheol] i’ll come to you

[choi seungcheol] and don't call me dude ever again or i'll seriously kill myself

[you] NO. do not come here. it’s late. let’s talk tomorrow okay?

11:17 PM

[choi seungcheol] i’m downstairs

[you] seungcheol..

[choi seungcheol] you want me to leave? i drove all this way though?

[you] fine.

[you] just talking.

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his shock red hair. that’s the first thing you notice after opening the door, followed by just how good he looks with it. stop.

seungcheol walks straight in, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and dropping them in that little bowl on your shoe cabinet. then he looks at you. no, he checks you out, his eyes slowly sliding up your body to see what you’re wearing.

god, he has no self control. you knew he’d do that, which is why you’d worn your frumpiest PJs. a clear visual indication that nothing was going to happen tonight.

‘just talking’ you reiterate, drawing an imaginary line on the floor with your foot.

seungcheol laughs, extending his arm, signaling you to walk ahead and lead the way. the thing is, he wants to check your ass out. though you may think this is your frumpiest pair, there’s something in the material which makes it cling to your cheeks, making them look extra juicy.

seungcheol follows behind you, maintaining the “line” until you pause abruptly and he takes a step too close. just like that, he’s already crossed it, and then, he’s already kissing you, already taking off his glasses, already tossing his beanie aside, already grabbing your ass, already carrying you to the bedroom.

‘t-this is a bad idea’ you stutter, trying to find some of that self-control you keep asking him to show.

‘i know. so bad’ he breathes into the curve of your neck, sucking on the skin hungrily until it breaks. ex-seungcheol was obsessed with leaving marks of himself on you — hickeys, bites, hand prints.

he stumbles into the bedroom, leaving the lights off, and sets you down on the edge of the bed. no, you can't be doing this again.

‘seungcheol, i really don’t think-’

‘shh, don’t say anything, just kiss me. look at me' he grabs your chin, angling your face up ‘kiss me’ he says like it’s just that simple. seungcheol snakes his long tongue into your mouth, kissing you, his hands busy unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down just enough to let his cock breathe. as you kiss, he lays you down on the bed, driving a knee in between your legs to spread them apart.

‘do you still like it when i do this?’ he asks, as if there’s any answer apart from fuck yes, and presses his knee to your core, grinding hard, sending pulses of pleasure straight through you. you answer with an involuntary moan, stifling it just in time so he doesn't hear.

you see, seungcheol doesn't need an answer from you. he can already guess from your erect nipples which are poking through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, asking to be sucked on. who's he to deny them that? so, he pushes your t-shirt up, above your tits, grabbing and pressing them together, and buries his face into the valley of your breasts.

‘fuck’ he inhales ‘missed this’

ex-seungcheol was all about missing you — missed your smell, missed this pussy, missed your pretty little mouth, missed you. you know seungcheol. you know once he latches onto your tits, he's not leaving till you both have finished. so, you make a last-ditch attempt.

‘you know that article i sent you?’ he cups a breast in each hand, rolling, teasing, and tugging your nipples in between his fingers.

‘it-’ god, that feels good ‘it says the best way for us to do this is to go no-contact. really’

‘yeah?' you nod, surprised he's even listening.

‘fuck that article’ and with that he takes you in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola before latching his soft lips onto your hard nipples. fine, just one last time then, you pacify yourself and let go. you sink into the feeling of your breasts being sucked on, while your fingers sink into his thick hair, tugging on tufts of red.

‘the red looks fucking hot, by the way’ your compliment sandwiched in between soft moans. seungcheol pulls off your breast, looking up at you, a sudden hunger in his eyes.

ex-seungcheol loves compliments. loves them. — compliment his face, his hair, his built, and definitely compliment his cock. he needs to be desired by his exes.

he leans back, ripping his overshirt and t-shirt off, his hair falling wildly over his face. seungcheol runs both his hands through his locks, slicking his hair back. ‘take your clothes off’ he’s got a little gruff in his voice ‘now’

you undress hastily, and it’s not until you see a cocky grin spread across his face, you realise what he’s noticed.

‘just talking, huh?’

you’re wearing those panties — the ‘pull aside pair’ as he called it. seungcheol loved these on you, it was his favourite because firstly, they just about covered your cunt and secondly, they would ride right up your ass giving him the best view. you and him both knew that if you’re going to wear these panties, he’s going to fuck you with them on.

of course you’d prepped incase he did come over, which had happened one too many times before, but the optics of this really don’t help your no-contact agenda.

‘let’s talk then’ he pulls his jeans and boxers off, his cock springing out. yummy.

‘why don’t we talk about how you’re wearing these, hhmn?’ he cocks an eyebrow, snapping the band of your underwear hard ‘you know what happens when you wear these’ you can’t count the number of times he’s cum on your ass while you were in them.

he pulls your panties to the side, and there, another surprise. ‘oh, fuck me’ he groans needily. not only have you shaved down there, but you’ve trimmed your hair just the way he likes it.

‘fucking hell’ seungcheol curses again, licking and sticking a finger inside you, feeling your wet warmth pull his finger right in. ‘or no, let’s talk about how i can already fit one. no, two. oh? three?’ yes, three.

‘three of my fingers inside your pussy so easily’ he slides them in, all three coming out with a glossy sheen. and then, in a sickeningly sensual move, his runs his flat tongue over all three, licking them clean.

‘you taste like you need a dick inside you’ seungcheol grabs his, slapping it hard against his cupped palm. it’s like every thought in your mind turns into mush at the sound, and suddenly you’re just a hole. an empty hole.

‘cheollie’ you shouldn’t be calling him that ‘please put your big fat dick inside me. i need you so bad, cheollie’ you know exactly what to say to seungcheol to make him tick. ex or not.

he groans, pulling down a pillow and placing it under your lap to lift your hips. then he positions himself, lining himself up to your entrance.

‘wait’ you pause, much to his dicks disappointment, to grab a condom from the bedside table, your body twisting on its side. fuck, that ass looks good, seungcheol thinks, giving it a tight slap. ‘mmm’ you bite your lip, looking back at him.

‘again, daddy’ he slaps it even harder, the force of his palm making ripples on your skin. he looks at you now, so full of lust, and he can’t remember why he ever let you go. stupid fucking decision.

‘be a good girl and put it on for me’ it was one those odd things that really turned him on. he watches now as you rip the condom wrapper with your teeth, slowly rolling down its slippery edges onto his fat dick.

‘now come to daddy’ you lay back down as he grabs your legs and slides you towards him, a little squeal spilling out of you.

‘tell me what you want’

‘i want your fat dick inside my tight wet pussy’

‘that’s my girl’ he hooks two fingers under the ribbed fabric of your panties and pulls them aside, sliding his tip up and down your slick folds a few times before pushing just his fat mushroom head in. ‘fuck’ you both curse at the same time, and in the same breath as he penetrates you little by little until he’s all the way in.

‘shit, missed this pussy so much’ and you don’t say it out loud, but as he starts thrusting you’re reminded of just how much you missed his cock. no amount of vibrators and dildos could do for you what seungcheol is doing right now. it’s like he’s been able to scratch an itch deep, deep inside you. literally.

seungcheol repositions himself, leaning a little lower, angling his strokes a little higher, his cock teasing the roof of your pussy. once he’s satisfied with how he’s buried inside you, he slides his big hands up your arms before gripping your wrists tightly, shackling them in his palms, and slams down, pinning you onto the bed and fucking you.

‘oh fuck, yes’ you moan, in that nasal little way you do, which he finds stupidly hot.

‘that’s what daddy likes to hear’ he grins, his tongue touching his canines.

speaking of stupidly hot, you can’t help but notice how good he looks on top of you. has he gotten bigger? looks like it. his chest seems to have doubled, looking bigger, firmer, and frankly, more suckable. has he gotten hotter? definitely. maybe it's an ex thing or maybe it’s the red hair. god bless his hairdresser.

you’re a little dazed honestly, by his buff(er) built, especially the silver cross necklace that’s hanging off his thick neck, swinging above your face with every thrust.

‘like what you see?' he raises his eyebrow, catching you staring, and in response you bite on the dangling silver and pull him down towards you. you take his tongue into your mouth, swapping spit like a couple of teenagers.

now closer to you, you get a whiff of the faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes coming off him. you wonder where he was before this, and who got to see him looking this fine. there’s a hot sting of jealousy that cools when his chain skims across your breast, the cold metal making your nipples hard in an instant. seungcheol gets distracted by your tits once again, pushing them together and holding on as he fucks you.

‘love your tits’

‘love yours’ oh, they’ve definitely gotten bigger, you think, cupping one in your hand and circling your thumb over his nipple.

‘fuck yes, suck on it’ he bends, and you take him in your mouth, sucking on his tits, flicking his hard nub with your wet tongue.

‘yes, that’s it, good girl’ he grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing your face into his chest. seungcheol loved getting his nipples stimulated, and you feel the pleasure you're giving him pound straight back into you.

‘fucking love your pussy’

‘mmm, love your fat cock in my pussy’

‘love-’ the words are at the tip of his tongue, but before he says the stupid thing he’s not supposed to say, you kiss him, clenching your cunt so tightly and abruptly that it knocks the strength out his arms for a split second.

‘fuck, that feels amazing’ he groans ‘love your pussy so much. it’s made just for me’

‘just mine to fuck, only mine’ his possessiveness — one of the reasons it didn’t work, but so sexy in this moment.

‘yeah?’ you know what he’s really asking. he wants to know if you’ve fucked anyone else in your weeks apart, if there’s a legitimate reason for that condom separating the both of you or if its a formality. he needs to know.

ex-seungcheol is greedy — he reminded you of a bratty child at times. it was not his toy anymore but he refused to let anyone else play with it. mine!

‘only yours’ you say, and take it a step further, whispering into his ear ‘i’m only yours so take the condom off and fuck me raw’

the no-contact rule dies a violent death as he pulls out, yanking off the condom and sliding his fat, veiny, throbbing cock back inside you in what seems like less than a second.

‘fuck’ the sensation of your raw slippery cunt in contrast with how tight you’re clenching around his dick makes him curse. you wrap your legs around his waist, digging the heels of your foot into his back to push him deeper inside you.

‘y-yes, i can feel you so deep’ you breathe, two of your fingers sliding down to rub your swollen clit in sloppy circles.

‘god i love it when you play with your pussy with my dick deep inside you’ he’s fucking you so forcefully now that the slap of his skin against yours is all that can be heard.

your arch your back, closing your eyes and focusing hard on all the ways you’re being stimulated — your fingertips on your clit, the tip of his penis pressing against your walls, and his heavy balls slapping against your asshole — all the sensations twisting into a knot in your stomach.

‘you’re there, right there. do it’ he guides you ‘be a good girl and cum for me now’ his words are all you need as the knot tightens and then unravels, the orgasm taking over you from your head to your toes. it’s an addictive high, one that you’ve desperately missed, and it leaves you shaking and stuttering under him.

‘yes, there you go, there it is. fuck’ he pulls out his cock halfway, reeling at the sight of your creamy white cum coating it ‘look at that. oh you’re such a good girl for creaming all over daddy’s dick’

you breathe a satisfied breath, feeling your cunt continue to clench involuntarily at his praise, his pace suddenly picking up.

‘squeeze around my dick just like that’ he grabs both your legs, holding them together by the ankle and turns your body so you’re laying on your side, your legs folded at your knees. your pussy is so tight in this position, and your ass looks extra fat. ‘fucking hot’ he praises, moaning as you squeeze so tight around him, over and over. he knows he’s about to blow.

‘cum on my ass, daddy’ it’s tradition at this point. seungcheol pulls out, perfectly positioning himself over your ass and frantically jerks off, the squelch of his strokes filling the room. he grabs a handful in his other hand, squeezing hard. ouch. that’s going to leave a mark.

‘cum for me’ you sing seductively, his breath catching in his throat. ‘cover me in your cum, daddy. i’m all yours to cum on. i’m only yours’ you remind, and that pushes him right over the edge as he cums with a loud long grunt, shooting his thick, warm, milky load all over your cheeks. and god, there’s so so much of it.

‘holy shit. how long have you been storing that?’ you scoop some up with your fingers, giving it a taste ‘mmm, yum’

honestly, seungcheol’s a little surprised by his load too, shaking his head and laughing softly as you review his cum. ‘wait, let me just get the, where is that thing?’

he picks up his crumpled overshirt, a balenciaga shirt mind you, off the floor and cleans the cum off you, then wipes his own dick down.

‘i can’t believe you still do that’

‘do what?’

‘use your expensive ass clothes to wipe cum like they’re disposable tissues or something’

he shrugs ‘they may as well be for me’

you roll your eyes at that, starting to remember reasons as to why he’s your ex again.

‘oh, by the way’ seungcheol rolls up the cum rag shirt before chucking it back onto the floor.

‘were you seriously trying to bring up an article on how to break up while i was sucking on your tits?’

you chuckle cutely ‘yeah, i was actually. but fuck that article, right?’

‘yeah’ he nods, pouting in agreement ‘fuck that article’ he breaks into a huge smile, looking at you fondly as you both crack up, and finds himself asking the question he always does after one these nights — why did you both break up again?

[cheriladycl01]

Feel the Heat - Grid x F Driver! Reader

Plot: All the moments that Y/N has just absolutely lost her shit.

Warnings: Lots of swearing, mentions of sexism (undertones) which I do not condone at all, its just for the plot and what i see some celebrities are burdened with in the limelight.

Moment 1:

"So Y/N how do you feel about the 10 second time penalty?" Martin asks you in the post race interview. You were now starting P20 in the race tomorrow and it wasn't even your fault.

"Yeah superb the FIA did a really good job determining who was at fault!" you grit out with a strained smile on your face.

"Oh really? Because your team seem to be arguing against the decision as we speak, they've been very vocal about it"

"Yeah it was sarcastic of course I'm not happy, any other driver who did that would have been let off... but I don't? My team have clips of Hamilton, Ricciardo, Leclerc, Stroll, Gasly and Norris all doing it and getting away with it. So why not me?" you ask before storming off. You didn't want to do media anymore and your PR manager could tell.

"Y/N we are trying to get that penalty lifted so that you start P4 tomorrow. I don't know what else to say, the team are trying" she says rubbing your shoulders, but the scowl on your face says otherwise.

"It's not fucking right though Cathy!" you exclaim kicking the side of the Red Bull hospitality wall.

"I know, i know. And they are working on it!" she exclaims trying to calm you down.

"They wont change their decision now though, the other teams will get pissed that they've gone back on their word..." you seethe.

"Fucks sake" you scream.

"I'm going" you grunt out, before storming through the AlphaTauri garage and grab your bag that you'd brought to the track. Everyone could see how hacked off you were, even once you put the sunglasses on and your team cap to cover the look currently on your face.

"Y/N are you okay?" Yuki your team mate asks, as he too exists the paddock behind you. You tried to ignore him, not wanting to turn round and snap at one of the most genuine and sweetest people here.

"Okay, you don't want to talk and that's fine, but please let me drive. Angry Y/N is scary driving" he advises, trying to beeline ahead of you so that he could get to the drivers door before you.

"Sorry Yuki, yeah you should drive" you manage to get out slowing down your own pace so that the poor male didn't have to run so he was ahead of you.

Aftermath:

You proceeded to not have the time penalty knocked, and you started the race in P20, however you managed to climb all the way up to P5 in a victorious come back race.

Your team were celebrating the come back and you were beyond happy in the interviews.

Moment 2:

"Y/N over here! Can you sign this?" another voice shouts at you, you were in the airport and your manager said that he would be there for you and your girlfriend when you got off the plane with security.

However no-one was there to collect you apart from fans who somehow worked out what flight you were on.

Slowly more and more people were flooding around you both and your girlfriend. Your girlfriend was a smaller streamer and therefore wasn't used to the Paparazzi.

"Guys can we back up a little, just to keep us all safe" you tried being nice to get the fans to back up a little further to make sure your girlfriend was safe.

However, as you went round with the sharpie, more and more people were pushing and you were so out of it from the pushing and pulling, the cameras in your face and things being thrusted at you that the tight grip that was once on your forearm was gone.

"Emma?" you shouted your girlfriends name, now noticing you couldn't see her.

"Emma!" you shouted in an angrier tone, people still not backing up and giving you space.

"Right, I've tried to be nice, everyone please leave. NOW!" you say sternly, and for the first time not only the fans but airport staff notice the commotion and security help you out of the circled crowd around you.

You immediately went to twitter.

'Please, if you are a fan and you see a celebrity in a public space with no security... DONT bring attention to them and DONT mob them. That was the scariest moment of my life in Heathrow Airport just now. Have some fucking respect for your idols'

You shut your phone off, your face still angry most definitely being caught by the paps. They also caught as you ran up to your girlfriend pulling her into a hug, checking over her making sure she's okay, before your hands travel up to her cheek and pull her into a kiss.

"I'm so sorry baby" you apologize as soft tears start to fall down her face.

Aftermath:

Your girlfriend had ended up breaking up with you the week after the race, the pressure of everything getting to her. You cried to Charles and Pierre for an entire weekend as your 3 year long relationship had just come to a close because of your fans not having respect for personal space and boundaries.

You were fuming and had written many tweets and Instagram story's explaining why you guys broke up and how utterly heartbroken you were, however you wanted Emma to be happy and that this is what was for the best.

For months, you were cold and off with any media duties and PR had to tell every interviewer not to bring the breakup up in the questions or they'd cut the interview.

Moment 3:

"Well, Lando... you've been here for six years now and you still haven't got your first win yet... do you feel like your going to be the next Nico Hulkenberg or Kevin Magnussen?" An interviewer asks looking down at his notepad.

"Erm" Lando says unsurely looking down.

"What the actual fuck" you spit, looking at the interviewer that asked him.

"Y/N you have input on this matter?"

"Go fuck yourself. Get yourself in a F1 car and see if you can even fucking start it. Lando has worked hard for what he has achieved so far, in and no hate to Mclaren, but a midfield car. How dare you sit there and ask him that question. Kevin and Nico have also worked hard for where they are, even just being in F1 is a phenomenal achievement considering there are only 20 seats in the world. So to answer your question, no Lando is Lando Norris and that's fucking iconic enough as it is, with or without a win. Have a good fucking rest of the panel" you rant, before standing up with so much force that your seat goes crashing back, a bang sounding throughout the room making the interviewer flinch.

Aftermath:

Everyone actually sat there for a minute reviewing how you'd just stormed out of media duties and slammed the interviewer six feet under.

"So Y/N no longer will be participating into todays panel. So Martin i believe you had a question for Lewis?" the director advised but the rest of the vibes for the interview weren't there as everyone agreed with your previous statements.

Moment 4:

"Y/N are you okay?" your race engineer asks.

"FUCK! FUCKS SAKE. WHAT A PRICK" you screech.

"Copy that. But are you okay?" they asks once again.

"No I'm not fucking okay. Tell Leclerc when i see him, I'm going to shove his wheel so far into his mouth " *cut off*

"Did you guys just fucking mute me?" you scream, but after not hearing anything you jump out the car handing the wheel to one of the pit teams that had come out to collect your battered car.

You kicked at the gravel, yelling at one of the crew asking if they saw how Leclerc had literally gone into you and used you as his crash barrier, yet he was still able to the continue the race pitting for minor wing damage.

Aftermath:

You had yelled at Charles after the race, who completely admitted to you that he was at fault and he was sorry to be the cause of your DNF. He went on to say in the interviews that he was sorry to you that he'd caused such a collision.

Moment 5:

"WOMEN SHOULDNT BE IN MOTORSPORT" you hear from the stand behind you as your signing a little boys hat that he had offered you asking for a picture and a signature.

However, something metallic not only hit you but hit the little boy that was stood to your left. He immediately raised his hand to his head, holding the bit that the can had hit before bursting into tears.

In a moment of shock you spin round looking for the men that had thrown the empty beer cans at you through the fencing.

"Oiii you two get the fuck down here now!" you point at the two laughing gents, who still at being called out.

"Don't ever pull shit like that again or I'll get you permanently banned from every sporting event you could possibly attend" you say looking up at them. They looked at you in shock.

"Oh, I'm sorry if its not the consequences of your actions ..." you laugh.

"But ..."

"No, you hurt a little boy! And me... So I'll be letting bar staff know to no longer serve you" you say before turning away and talking to security.

They ended up finding the little boy and his father. You came up to them with a gift bag each and upgraded paddock passes. They hugged you thanking you for the opportunity and saying it was too much.

You made sure the little boy was okay, carrying him on your hip touring him through the paddock, introducing him and his dad to the other drivers and then showing him around the garage. You let him sit in your car while you took a picture of him and his dad. A mechanic then took a picture of the three of you.

Aftermath:

The media went crazy seeing you stick up for the little boy and his day around the paddock with you. People knew you were sweet despite how short tempered you could be and these interactions proved it.

The little boy and his father ended up actually becoming closer friends of yours and would often be seen in the paddock or when they had general tickets people would wave as they recognized them.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz

[lunarduty]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀

☾ definition: dacryphilia refers to sexual pleasure or arousal from seeing tears or hearing the sounds of crying. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES X F!READER TAGS | nsfw, smut, crying, mention of a safe word, f!dom, overstimulation, orgasm denial WC | 3,099

JOHN PRICE

… sees you cry and praises.

if john could see your eyes right now, he’d tell you not to be embarrassed. would probably coo at you like a prized horse. ask you what was wrong, and if there was anything he could do to help.

problem was, you weren’t sure what it was you were crying over - the bite of wood against your skin, or john’s tongue between your thighs.

both were agonizing in their own ways. both BURNED with something that hurt too good to admit. both demanded your attention, but as always, john eventually won the fight for it. the tiny little scrapes and bumps caused by the old wood of his desk had started to numb when the tears came. john’s fingers pushing into your cunt acted as a sort of balm. you couldn’t feel anything but him.

his broad shoulders had kept your legs spread for far too long at this point, so they eventually began to ache too. they tremble and quake around john’s shoulders. you know he feels it, and thinks it’s because of his tongue and fingers.

he’s not far from the truth.

and just as soon as john’s eyes shoot up, you’re throwing your head back. eyes squeezing shut, shuddering breath disguised behind a moan, hoping to just cum on his mouth and he doesn’t have to know he caused the tears that seem to burn your eyes. he’s kept you on the edge for so long, it wouldn’t be hard to simply focus on his tongue and let go.

there’s a burn behind your eyelids. more tears form when his fingers curl and his tongue flicks a certain way.

“john,” you breathe out, ending his name with a pant. “it’s… i-”

“look at me, love.”

it was an order. plain and clear. your head snaps up immediately, finding his half-illuminated eyes in the lowlight of his office. dark hair looking raven black, eyes blown up to match - but even then, you see them LIGHT up with amusement. even in shitty lighting, john catches the glimmer of tears. right on the edge of falling down your pretty cheeks - you probably don’t even notice. it only makes him harder.

he laughs in a low rumble. “so fucking pretty, aren’tcha?”

you nod; panting, writhing, crying.

john leans his head in closer, pushing in his fingers as far as they’ll go. “pretty girl gonna cum for me? all sweet and tight around my fingers? keep watching me, love - gonna cum now? yeah, go right ahead, dove. you more than DESERVE it.”

the orgasm hits like a truck when john grinds his tongue against your clit. just before your eyes squeeze shut again, a tear finally breaks free and glides down your cheek - warm and flushed from a climax that he’s sure someone must’ve heard.

john has always promised he’d never make you cry, but this is a damn good exception.

☾

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

… sees you cry and dotes.

gaz has always gone on and on about how much he wants to keep you separate from his work. to leave all the roughness behind when he’s with you. it was never really a problem until tonight - sweet and gentle and slow to a fault. 

too sweet. too gentle. too slow. 

kyle is careful to keep a STEADY pace - a careful rock of his hips, lightly grinding against yours when he’s pressed in deep, making you feel each and every inch of him before gradually pulling out to do when same thing over again. and you know he doesn’t do things without an express purpose - after extending your orgasm a few times, it’s safe to say that your safety isn’t the top priority for once.

he hasn’t gone much faster than this languid pace. selfishly listening to your stunted breaths and pained whimpers of his name. 

if you ask him to go faster, gaz slows down. if you beg for something harder, he smiles and kisses you and tells you to be patient. 

but what has all this patience gotten you? two incredibly drawn out orgasms that fucking ACHED when they hit and kyle stubbornly keeping his thrusts slow and torturous under his guise of being gentle. it’s all a little too much. too intense. your eyes squeeze shut, face nestled against kyle’s neck, hips shifting up when he buries his cock in to try and grind out another orgasm. 

unfortunately, gaz knows you. knows your movements and knows your sounds - the shortening of your breaths and desperate whimpers and choked moans and… sniffles?

his pulls his head up immediately, eyes narrowing in on the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. and gaz grins - he can’t help against it. his cock pulses when a finger comes up to brush a tear away before it has a chance to fall down your face.

“poor baby,” he coos. if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve noticed how tight his voice sounds. “it’s alright. doing so well for me. gonna make you cum again, don’t you worry. just hang in there, yeah?” his words are breathed against your lips, and by some miracle, gaz picks up the pace. hips picking up speed, even rocking a little stronger and it isn’t until you heard the slap of skin do you truly realize how SOAKED he got you.

the initial tears were caused by kyle’s torturous pace. a new set follows the old when he finally fucks you properly. gaz doesn’t mind - he likes wiping them away.

☾

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

… sees you cry and teases.

“why’re you crying, bonnie? did you hurt your feelings or something?”

soap knows you won’t respond. not that you could.

the pace of his thrusts are too rough. too quick. too deep. using all his weight to slam into you again and again, not letting up for a moment. the worst part is, you know he has the stamina to keep going, even if you beg him to slow down. to let you breathe air that doesn’t taste like him.

your nails dig into the skin of soap’s chest as you shake your head. everything ached in a delicious way but it wasn’t your feelings that were hurt. soap moves his hand from his bruising grip on your hips to clasp around your jaw, shifting your head to look him straight on. he wants you looking at him, even through WATERY eyes. 

soap grunts as he shifts into a better position to fuck you in. his hair is mussed from your fingers. skin blotchy and flushed from exertion. he still grins at you. “then why’re you crying? want me to stop? is that it?”

“no!” you cry out - half a moan and half a shout.

a thoughtful hum vibrates against his ribs as soap’s fingers release your jaw, only to come up and wipe away a tear that leaked from the corner of your eye. “ahh, i get it, lass,” he breathes out, continuing his rough thrusts with a deep groan. “you’re cryin’ so pretty ‘cause you like getting fucked so good. am i right? my girl loves getting fucked ‘till she cries?”

you’re silent. eyes falling shut, mouth agape, head tilting back to ignore soap’s teases and just feel the addicting slide of his cock. he slows his thrusts only to grind against your pelvis and it’s such a massive difference in sensation that you nearly cum on the spot. it works to make you cry out his name.

“fuck- johnny!” and you do. so, so prettily.

☾

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

… sees you cry and worries.

simon’s face still hurt - a spot right over his cheekbone, purple and swollen and it aches almost enough to make him forget about how sore the rest of his body is.

it’s easy enough to ignore. it’s not liquor or ibuprofen that dulls the pain. his old methods of healing after a rough mission seem useless in the wake of pressing you back on the couch. it’s the touch of your skin, the smell of your hair, the noises you make that really pull him back together. you’re careful not to tug at him too hard or touch any of his TENDER aches, even when he begs you to.

yeah. it’s easy for simon to forget how close he was to not be here fucking you.

his fingers dig into the armrest of the couch, forcing his throbbing body to move as fast as he wants it to. an impromptu fuck on the couch wasn’t exactly planned tonight - you went on and on about how much you wanted to take care of him. but you’ve been clinging to him all night. never letting him out of your sight. it was just a natural progression and simon sure as shit wasn’t complaining.

“fuck, lovie,” he groans out slowly. if you keep moving your hips like that, he’s not gonna last much longer.

and fuck, simon was so close, he could taste it. feel it building in the base of his spine and how tight his stomach gets and it all makes it a little easier to forgo his aches to simply drive into you again and again. your arms wrap around his torso, brushing against tender ribs - when simon hisses, he’s unsure if it’s the pain or the sudden tightness around his cock when you jolt. simon’s mind goes blank and he’s just so fucking close and…

you make a new noise. unfamiliar to the ones simon has memorized when he’s fucking you. his eyes are HAZY and unfocused when he looks at you, and he didn’t quite know what he expected to find. tears accompanied the sniffle he heard, and your hand comes up to wipe them away in haste.

simon’s hips freeze instantly. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? you okay?”

fuck, did he do something wrong?

to his surprise, you scoff. smiling despite wet cheeks and red eyes and simon blames his impending orgasm for how slow he is to understand. “i’m okay,” you reassure him. when your fingers trail up his spine, simon can barely breathe. “i just love you so much. don’t be so RECKLESS next time, okay?”

your legs tighten their hold around his hips. pulling him closer even when simon wants to pull back and really make sure you’re okay. you don’t allow it, instead grinding up against him at the same pace he’d been fucking you in - still sniffling and wiping a tear away on his arm.

simon swears he’s never cum so hard in his life.

☾

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

… sees you cry and stares.

morning has always been alejandro’s favorite time of day.

pinkish gold sunlight coming in through the window promises a beautiful day that he’ll likely be too busy to truly enjoy but welcomes all the same. alejandro hears the bustle of traffic outside - your place isn’t nearly as nice as his, but it’s closer to base and he’s never been known to waste time with you. alejandro is just a little tempted to rip his gaze away from you to enjoy the sunrise coming over las almas.

but he doesn’t. he never does. you’re just too fucking pretty.

alejandro kills two birds with one stone. pulls you out of bed and leads you over to the window just as the sun paints the clouds a deep gold. it saturates your skin in such a perfect way where alejandro can’t help but to touch it. touch your face, your neck, your shoulders, your back, your stomach, and well, he knows your pussy would look fucking HEAVENLY under the light as well.

“pretty fucking girl,” alejandro groans out. he usually likes watching his cock sink inside of you, but there was something about the glow of your skin pressed against the window that makes him just stare at your face. his thrusts are slow and deep, and your breath fogs up the glass, and you keep tugging your shirt down when alejandro pushes it up because you’re the one who has to face your neighbors every day.

when you came along, he didn’t think there could ever be a more beautiful sight than when you first smiled at him.

you proved him wrong with just a few tears reflecting the sunrise.

alejandro could’ve came right then and there. his hips did a little stutter and he grunted when you let out a little whimper while squeezing your eyes shut and he just watched a tear glide over your cheek. he almost pulls you away from the window to flip you around. fully face him so the glass doesn’t GREEDILY soak up all your tears because he’s fucking you so firmly against it.

“al- alejan- fuck, i’m so…”

“i know, baby. keep looking at me. yeah, lemme see those eyes. fuck…”

he kisses you. has a hand tangled into your hair and twists your neck into a better angle and kisses you to taste the salt on your lips and it’s like a bomb went off. alejandro’s hips pick up their pace and you rock back against him and fog up the glass even more when you shudder on his cock.

he cums with your tears wiping off against his own cheeks and salt on his tongue.

☾

RUDOLFO PARRA

… is the one to cry.

“it’s okay, rudy. doing so good for me. i’m almost there, you don’t have to cry.”

was he crying? fuck, he was. rudy didn’t even notice until you smiled at him fondly, bringing a hand up to brush away a tear that broke past his lashes and threatened to fall down his face. 

rudy waits for the hot flash of embarrassment to hit him, but it never does. maybe it’s because this is you. but it's more likely because he’s so fucking close to cumming, he can’t focus on anything else but you. keeping his hands locked around your hips, strong enough to keep them moving back and forth even when you try to slow them down and draw out his orgasm. 

you hadn’t even notice rudy’s big, wet eyes until you attempted to slow down. keeping a more steady pace in his lap to give your thighs a rest, and yeah, to wind rudy up just a little. he works so hard. he DESERVES to get fucked out of his mind now and then.

maybe you went too far, though. when you try to stall your hips, his hands make sure they keep their pace. his own hips buck up off the bed to get even deeper.

“i know you wanna cum.” it’s difficult to keep your voice steady. to not devolve into harsh pants and groans like he has. “but not before me, okay? make me cum, rudy. fuck, make me cum…”

he huffs - such a large demand for someone so fucked-stupid. rudy is so smart, so capable, and so fucking useless right now that maybe it’s too much to ask of him. so to help him out, you pry his hand off your hip. bring it up to your mouth and slide the whole length of his thumb between your lips, letting it glide across your tongue.

rudy instantly gasps and his hips jolt up. you can feel his cock throb even harder inside of you.

but with his thumb coated in saliva, you bring his hand down to where you meet. rudy takes it from there - give him a task, point him in the right direction, and he’ll complete it. he rubs his thumb in tight, DESPERATE circles while his other hand keep your hips in a deep grinding pace until you cum all over him.

it was good. fucking fantastic. but not your favorite part.

rudy knows he’s finally allowed to cum, and he does. so achingly beautiful in the way his jaw drops open, saliva stringing between his teeth. eyes hazy and wet with damp cheeks and a pink nose and when he groans, his voice is hoarse and choked. 

eventually, when you fall against his chest, all you hear are rudy’s hard panting and his sniffles.

☾

PHILLIP GRAVES

… sees you cry and laughs.

graves can be a real asshole sometimes. sarcastic, arrogant, and you know him well enough to know that he kinda likes it. makes him feel larger than life. untouchable. now is no different.

“c’mon, hun. i wanna hear it. y’can’t cum until i hear you say it.”

your arms are thrown over your face, hiding the way your teeth grit together and your eyes screw shut and how your jaw hangs open to gasp for air whenever graves bullies his cock even deeper with each thrust. and to be honest, you barely heard what he said - it was all just white noise. still, you know what he wants. and you’re a little too PROUD to give in.

there’s silence. graves scoffs and you feel him lean forward to grip your arms in his hands. being ripped away from your face reveals a little tremble of your lips, tiny red splotches on your cheeks, and tears lining your eyes. 

graves laughs as if it isn’t his fault. torturing you and playing with you. resetting the goalpost of what you need to do to cum.

the laugh is deep and GENUINE - the kind you’re treated with in the middle of the night away from his shadows, saved especially for you. the grin that accompanies it isn’t bad either. but the laugh is like a slap to the face (something graves might’ve inflicted if his hands were free - after all, you haven’t said your safe word.)

“my poor baby.” he says it so condescendingly. with a quirk of his brow and tilt of his head. as if he and his cock hadn’t caused the tears. “bet it’s gettin’ painful, huh? bet a good orgasm will make you feel right as rain.”

you slowly nod because god, you need to cum.

so graves hums, still wearing a smirk as he shifts on his knees. you whimper under the movement, spine arching, eyes solely focused on him. “then you gotta ask permission, right? c’mon, hun. sound off for me. i know you can do it,” he encourages while his fingers trail slowly down your body. going straight where you needed him the most.

normally, if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve gotten smart with him. but as extra initiative, graves bends his spine a little. pushing his cock in just a little deeper and plainly getting off on how you gasp and your eyes finally push out hot, wet tears. 

this has gone on for too long. everything from your pussy down is throbbing.

“shadow 0-1…”

“hearin’ you loud and clear, baby.”

“requesting permission to cum…”

[dontopenfairies]

My sub is used to going in my lap now. Just today, he walked over to me shyly while I was sitting on the couch.

“Are you okay? Did you want to tell me something?” By now I can tell when he has to wet himself by the smallest signs—the way he clasps his hands and blinks a little faster than usual.

I open my arms to show that he can sit down if he wants. He sits down gingerly as if it hurts a little. “I have to go,” he says quietly in my ear.

“Aw, and you want to be comfortable while you do?” I ask him, brushing his hair with my fingers. “Do you still have a diaper on?”

He squirms a little at the embarrassment of being asked about what he’s wearing under his jeans.

“Yeah…” he says, finally.

“Tell me when you start going,” I say.

“I already was,” he says in a small voice. “Like for the past minute.”

“Hey,” I say, giving him a light slap on the behind. “Tell me right away next time.”

But I still hold him until he’s totally relaxed in my arms and I can tell he’s finished. “Okay,” I say after a few minutes pass, “I can tell you’re done now. Are you gonna get up.”

“Not done,” he mutters.

“What was that, honey?”

“I’m not done. I…I…I…”

“What, what, what?”

“I…I have to go number two also.” I feel his hot cheek press against mine as he leans his face into the crook of my shoulder.

“Do you want to go to the toilet…or…” I find his hand and gently rub the back of it with my thumb. “You wanted to do it here where you’re comfortable, huh? Is that it?”

“Mmm,” he says, clearly embarrassed. “Maybe…”

“I got you those nice big diapers this time, remember? So it will hold all of it.”

“Mmm…I…um,” he stammers.

“I’m not going to tell anyone if you go in your pants a little, baby.” He burrows his head deeper into the space between my neck and shoulder. I stroke his back. “I bet you feel really relaxed since you went pee. Is it making it hard to hold it?”

“A little bit,” he whispers.

“Go ahead, it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone you poop yourself sometimes. It can be our secret.”

He slowly raises his head and readjusts himself on my lap so that he’s kneeling and straddling my legs. I keep stroking down his back. I hear him grunt a little. I can feel his diaper growing. “Oh, good boy, let it all out.” He sighs and rests his head on my chest. I keep stroking his hair as he finishes. “I’m so glad you’re so comfortable around me.” I keep saying “good”, and “nice”, so that he knows I don’t mind at all.

“I’m…I think I’m done…” he says, his body relaxing into me.

“If you’re not sure, let’s keep the diaper on for a little while longer, okay? Just to be safe. Okay, we’ll lie down here for a second and I’ll spoon you.”

We lie down together on the couch and I rub his stomach and chest, secretly turned on by his mess pressing against my groin.

[vincentintheflesh]

Head On Over

“Damn, I look so fucking hot..” He mumbled to himself as he admired the picture of his exposed self.

“Wonder which one I should use for the next post..”

…

Draft edited 05/04/2015

Sup guys! Jason here.

As you can see, I’ve been taking pictures of myself out in the open and exposed! Why? Well, people don’t really pass by these areas and it gives me this weird (but good) feeling when I show myself off. Not in the kind of way where you feel like you could get caught- but in a way where someone is actively watching you. No one was ever there when I checked around though. Dunno. I swear I never got this feeling before getting to this place but it’s prob nothing.

Aside from my sexy little shots, everything here is pretty cool. Lots of nature, sunlight, mountains, and hot locals. One of the guys here in particular has really stuck in my mind. He didn’t really do anything interesting- he just seems to be everywhere. Dunno how he does it but I see him at least 3 times whenever I go out, and he has a different outfit on each time. Not gonna lie I was a bit creeped out because I thought he was stalking me. The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that he never glanced in my direction until I approached him. I was able to talk to him a bit and I guess he’s cool and pretty hot up close. Also noticed something about his neck but I didn’t say anything.

He also told me that I was welcome to “head on over” anytime. Wasn’t sure if I really wanted to enter a stranger’s house at first,  but we’d already talked for a good bit so why not? What could go wrong? I could totally beat his ass if needed to. And I’m pretty sure that this area is relatively safe too so maybe he won’t kill me lol. Don’t really have much else to do anyway since my vacation is almost over. Might as well have a bit more fun before I go.

Draft edited 05/05/2015

Alright, I’m heading over to that guy’s house. Wish me luck dudes.

…

“Hey! Good to see you, Jason.” He nonchalantly said as he waved his muscular left arm at Jason. His smile was wide as he sat up from his shaded porch to walk towards him. As he moved into the sun, his hard and defined muscles revealed its chiseled form under its light. 

“What’s up, man.” Jason returned the smile, his eyes darting between the man’s face and abs.

“Come on in.” He said with a knowing smirk  “I’ve only got milk for drinks right now. Is that alright?”

“..You hinting at something?”

“...No.” He smirked as he pulled the door open.

…

The moment I walked through that door… I suddenly remembered the pictures that I took of myself and the feeling of it. Huh, that’s random.

Before I could question it any further, his voice pulls my attention towards him.

“Follow me.” He said in his usual friendly manner.

I immediately listened for some reason. I assumed that he was going to lead me to the living room or something, but he just kept bringing me to these doorless, empty, and identical hallways. We occasionally took a few turns but that was it. And throughout it all, he seemed a bit.. Out of it? Each time I tried to make conversation, he just gave me clipped answers with that same smile. What was up with him..? 

I looked behind me, contemplating whether or not I should leave but only saw the endless hallway.

“Oh- we’re almost there! Don’t turn around just yet!” He suddenly called to me from farther ahead. At this point, I really didn’t want to be here anymore. When I tried to just leave though, my feet just wouldn’t budge. It was like the carpet was gripping onto me whenever I tried to step away from the man, so the only way was towards him.

Ugh…

We eventually reached a room that seemed to somewhat resemble a living room. Wooden floor, two couches and a table.. And that was it. No windows or decorations. I knew it- this guy was a weirdo… I sigh as I stepped forward.

…

The moment he stepped into the room, he was overcome by an overwhelming numbness.

“…”

“…”

… Wait.. Why does my neck- Why can’t I feel anything…? 

“Sorry- ” the man apologetically said as he turned to me.

What’s going on..? 

“I’ve really been needing this..and so has the house so… Yeah.”

He shrugged. There was a bent smile on his lips.

“But I’ll take good care of your body, alright? It’s a promise.”

What the fuck is he talking about?? What’s happening?!

I tried to scream as I felt his cold hands gently clasp around my neck. And then, they suddenly tightened and pulled upwards.

Pop

“There we go!”

My eyes widened as I looked down after hearing the noise.

Is that.. 

My body? 

…

The man gently placed Jason’s head down onto the little table, facing him in a way that guaranteed that he would see what was about to happen. He silently smirked at Jason as he roamed his hands around the headless body’s bulging muscles. As he did so, his hands slowly inched towards his pants… and suddenly, the body’s semi-hardened package straining against his jocks was in full view for both Jason and the man. Jason couldn’t believe his eyes as he witnessed what was unfolding. His very own body twitched and squirmed whilst under the mercy of the grinning man.

For a moment, he stopped his groping and stepped back.

“Alright, give it to him.” He said, clapping his hands twice.

Just then, the spot of the ceiling directly above the body began to twist and morph as if it were slime. It only did so for a few seconds until something familiar emerged from it. A hint of recognition passed through Jason’s eyes as he watched it cleanly plunge onto the stump of his headless body. He glanced between the man that brought him here, and the head. They shared the same dark hair, dark eyes, stubble, thick eyebrows, styled hair, and mismatching skin tones on their necks… Suddenly, everything made sense to him.

The newly attached head slowly opened its eyes and looked around. Its lips curled into a smirk when its eyes fell upon Jason’s bodiless form. 

“Finally…”

Its right arm rose up and bent into a flex, while its other hand made its way down to its bulging jock, firmly squeezing it.

“Mmmm… Fuuuuck…” It moaned as it began to peel away its jockstrap to free his throbbing member.

As it controlled Jason’s limbs to feel its stolen muscles up, the other man approached his body from behind, pressing his tented pants against his bubble butt. The two of them lustfully grinned at each other before pressing their lips together. Their tongues twisted into each other whilst their warm bodies grazed on one another. The head began to stroke his hardened length and the man hungrily rubbed his cock against his ass, the both of them desperate for a release. The man then pulled away and repositioned himself in front of the body. He kneeled down and quickly took its length deep into his throat. Wet squelches of his mouth echoed throughout the room as he relentlessly thrusted his head back and forth.

The body thief reeled its head back and grunted in pleasure. It thrusted forward, grasping the man’s head as he erupted, warm drops of white leaking out from the corners of the man’s mouth.

And throughout all of this, Jason could only watch as a bystander- hindered by his bodiless form. 

“...It’s… cold…” he finally said. His eyelids became heavy as he drifted off to a deep slumber. The ceiling shifts again, twisting and turning. This time, thick tendrils emerge from it, reaching down onto Jason’s head and encircling it. As if accepting an offering, it pulled his head into itself.

“Do you think he’ll mind a little makeover?” The man nonchalantly asked the head as he looked at the ceiling.

“Well, who would mind looking like me… or rather, us?” The head replied with a laugh.

The man smiled “Hm, no one of course- but we’ll need to find a body for him.”

“Right right… But why don’t we have a bit more fun before that..?”

“I'm all yours.”

[carlsangel]

KEEP TALKING PLEASE?

carl grimes x fem!reader

(carl is a chest guy.)

tags: smut, BOOBS!!! and all that jazz

masterlist here!

Carl loves your body, there’s no denying that. Whether you liked it or hated it, he would always love and adore it. He absolutely loved worshipping your body while you two were alone in your room. Usually when you’re out with others he does it quietly. He’ll run his hand up and down your thigh if you’re sitting or he’ll just stare at you for minutes until you notice.

One part of you he adore the most are your boobs. As silly as it sounds, consider him obsessed. The first time he saw them was way into your relationship, a point in time where you were sharing a room but you would change in front of him. He was always so curious and couldn’t help but ask so one time you let him see. He practically froze while he was sat on the bed.

You went to put a shirt on but he immediately protested. “Wait- just hold on.” He shyly waves you over to sit beside him. He’d admire you for a moment before looking up at you, putting his hands out towards your breast, waiting for you to give him the go ahead. When you smile and give him a small nod, he gently cups them, grazing his thumb over your nipple. You breathe in a sharp breath and he looks up at you slightly alarmed before realizing it felt good for you.

From there, he’d just massage you while you made out. Slow, gentle kisses while he played with your chest. It was probably his favorite moment of his life by far.

It reached another level when he started to use his mouth. At first it was something he’d done when you guys were intimate, but then it became something for comfort. Anything with your boobs really. It was comforting for him and he wasn’t sure why, maybe it was how warm you were or how soft your skin was.

You could be laying down on your bed, cuddling with him while talking. He’d grow to get a bit sleepier and quieter so he lifts your shirt a bit in his hands and looks to see if you’d let him like usual. “Yeah go ahead baby.” He loved how gentle you’d be with him while he was sleepy. It was just everything he needed. He’d lift your shirt up enough to reveal your bra and he’d pout at the barrier between him and what he really wanted.

You were wearing a sports bra so he just slid the fabric up to see your chest. He smiled immediately and before you knew it, his mouth was latched onto your tit. He’d shut his eyes as he sucked gently, drawing small moans from you. He didn’t mean for it to be sexual, it was just something he found comfort in. He pulls back a moment to look up at you. “Keep talking…please?” Once again his tone was sweet and light.

You’d just talk and talk about your day while he sucked at your nipple. He’d make small noises against you, which would die down as he fell asleep.

Other occasions he’d just enjoy holding them. Kind of how women find holding their own boobs comfortable, he’s the same except they don’t belong to him. Sometimes you’d watch movies in the living room on the couch while Rick and Michonne are chatting in the kitchen behind you both. All he wanted to do the entire time was to put his hand under your shirt and hold your tit because it was warm and comfy but they wouldn’t leave and he got so frustrated.

Anytime they spoke to him he’d be sort of irritated until they left.

I think it’s safe to say that Carl is a boob guy.

a/n: sorry this is so short but i really like it!!! i actually got two requests for this so i hope it meets the expectations LOL okay that’s it bye love you!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof yall.

No content warnings

You’re out in the woods one day, taking photos and going for a little hike. Stupid mental health walk or something; whatever, it’s a nice day and you’ve gotten some good shots. You’re just about to turn back when a huge brown and black wolf lopes out from a nearby thicket.

There aren’t any wolves in England though! Hunted to extinction - it’s why you feel safe bebopping around the forest alone in the daylight. So you see this big fuck-off sized “dog” and coo at the pretty puppy.

“Hello handsome boy, aren’t you just gorgeous! Will you come say hi?”

You do all the right things that you’re supposed to do with an unfamiliar dog but he just barges right through. Trots up to you, nose shoved into your crotch. You startle, bark a laugh, shove at his big stupid head.

“A little forward,” you tease, scratching under his chin, “but it’s better than biting.”

You feel all around his neck for a collar, but no luck. He must be someone’s though, huge blue eyes too intelligent and focused on your words. And his coat is so well maintained, glossy and shedded.

“Do you know how to… sit?”

An adorable head tilt, and the big dog settles onto his hind quarters.

“What a good boy!” you croon. “So smart!”

He licks at your palm and wrist as you scratch at him, huge tail thumping. A canine grin, tongue lolling out as he waits for your next command.

You hum.

“Well, guess we can check if you’re microchipped, huh? Or at least I can get you some water. See if someone recognizes you…”

You make a kissy noise at him. “Let’s go, big boy. Come.”

And to your delight, he falls into step with you. He weaves along the path ahead and behind, but always loops back to you, brushing against your thigh as if to reassure you he’s still there.

You hum as you walk, giggling when you see his ears twitch and swivel towards you. Tease that he should do better if he doesn’t like your version of Jolene.

You only cross paths with two other people on the walk, a pair of guys clearly out for a more serious hike. The dog plants himself between you and them, ears pinning back and a low growl erupting from his chest. You startle a bit, carefully burying your fingers around his scruff in case you need to grab him quickly.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t belong to either of you, then?” you ask.

One of the guys shakes his head. The other gives you an odd look. “He’s not yours?”

The dog barks, loud and rough. You shush him, explain the situation to the hikers. But the dog never stops rumbling and they quickly go on their way, keeping a wide berth.

You huff. “Don’t like men, huh?”

Poor thing. Maybe he was abandoned by a mean owner?

“S’alright, bud, I’ll be good to you.”

He follows you all the way back to your home. And when you open the door, shoulders right past you.

“Ah, shit,” you groan. “You weren’t supposed to come in!”

He gives you an almost betrayed look. You try not to huff in amusement.

“So help me, if you bring nasty things in this house I will shave you. Shave you. You’ll look so silly. Like an overgrown raw turkey.”

The dog turns, trots back to you. You didn’t realize just how big he is until he’s got his big paws on your shoulders. You blink, have to take a step back to brace against the weight of him. In his hind legs he’s taller than you. Really could pass for a pure bred wolf.

A big, rough tongue licks from your jaw to your forehead. You scrunch up your face but end up laying a kiss on his muzzle in return.

“Alright, you big nasty. Down you get.”

You shut and lock the door behind you, brushing leaves and dirt off.

“Okay, shower first,” you say aloud, already tugging off your clothes. “Then we’ll run into town, see if we can track down your family.”

You don’t mind the dog staring, unblinking, as you strip down right there, balling things up to avoid tracking a mess through the house. Nor do you mind him following you to the bathroom, though you do push at his snout when he licks the back of your knee. Just normal dog things, really. They don’t get people stuff like clothes or boundaries.

“Stay out of trouble, bud. I’ll be right out.”

As you wash up, you consider the merits of adopting. Only if you can’t find the dog’s actual family, that is. It’s lonely in your little house sometimes - and a bit spooky at night. A big, protective dog might be just the thing.

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